


Elegant

by Miershooptier



Series: Bodies in Orbit [1]
Category: Numb3rs (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Case Fic, Complete, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sex, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Swearing, There will be more eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 40,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miershooptier/pseuds/Miershooptier
Summary: Charlie and Ian are out and in an established but non-conventional relationship.  When tragedy strikes, Charlie suspects that there’s more to the case than everyone believes.  Post-series AU, mostly canon compliant.I don’t own any characters you recognize, I just like to push their faces together and make kissy noises.  They're not mine and I'm not making any money.This is my first fic and it wasn't beta'd.  I was inspired by everyone who's written Charlie/Ian fic because I'm pretty sure I've read all of it.





	1. Chapter 1

Alan Eppes paused in the act of shaking rinse water from a plate, taking a moment to gaze out the kitchen window at the rosy gold light of the sunset.  It was catching the edges of the clouds that were slowly moving across the valley and the air still carried the smell of the afternoon’s rain.  Alan opened the door to the backyard, leaving the screen door closed but allowing the fresh, cool air to come in.  As he resumed washing the few remaining dishes he let his mind wander back through the years, remembering other peaceful spring nights.  The boys would be upstairs, asleep or pretending to be – Charlie usually had notebooks with him everywhere and Don would read in bed if he wasn’t sneaking out with his friends.  And Margaret would be there in the kitchen with him, ending the day with a cigarette, a cup of tea and sometimes dancing to the music on the old kitchen radio, when Alan thought that she’d spent enough time poring over legal briefs and court motions.  She had been so much like Charlie when she was working on a pro bono case that really caught her attention.  When Margaret had a cause she was an unstoppable force, devoting all of her focus and passion until she achieved the results she wanted.

Alan shut his eyes.  The tears stung a little, even after almost ten years.  He felt, or hoped, that she was still with him in some way.  That she could see how well both of her sons were doing.  Donnie was married and had a baby on the way.  And Charlie…

Charlie was happy.  It had come as a shock when he and Amita had broken up, and there had been an even bigger shock a year later when Charlie had brought Ian Edgerton home to dinner.  As much as Alan held to the free love tenets of the 1960s he still wanted grandchildren, and he wasn’t sure what Charlie wanted in that respect.  And he couldn’t picture Ian Edgerton, third-best shot in the country, as a parent no matter how hard he tried.

But Charlie was happy.  Happier than he’d ever seemed with Amita.  Charlie and Ian, somehow, fit together.  Charlie had an air of easy confidence now that he’d only ever had when talking about his numbers, and while Alan knew that it was hard for Charlie when Ian was on a hunt or at Quantico, it seemed as though the two of them were always able to pick up right where they left off.

Almost as if his thoughts had summoned him, Alan heard the front door open and Ian calling Charlie’s name as he walked in.  Charlie had given Ian a key years ago.  “Alan,” the sniper said, nodding a greeting as he entered the kitchen. 

“Ian, nice to see you,” Alan nodded back, as always politely ignoring the rifle case in Ian’s hand.  “Charlie’s out in the garage.  Take this to him, will you?  He didn’t come in for dinner.  And there are more leftovers if you’re hungry.”  Alan gestured toward a foil-covered plate on the counter.

Ian smiled softly.  That was the other thing that had surprised Alan about Charlie and Ian’s relationship.  While Charlie had grown more confident, some of Ian’s sharper edges had become…not dull, exactly, but retracted.  It was as if Ian had pulled in his claws like a cat, keeping them ready for use but out of sight most of the time. 

“I’ll take it out to him, thanks Alan.”  Ian grabbed the plate and took a quick detour to stow his rifle upstairs in the room he shared with Charlie when he was in town, then made his way out to the garage.  Opening the door, he paused, drinking in one of his favorite sights.

Charlie was bobbing his head to the music, his curly hair nearly obscuring the new headphones Ian had given him over the holidays.  No stranger to the risks of hearing loss, especially given his profession, Ian had tried to find headphones that would go a little easier on Charlie’s ears at the volume he preferred when he was working on his chalkboards.  The familiar sound of chalk clacking on the boards filled the room, with the tiniest bit of the music Charlie was listening to providing a tinny undertone to the atmosphere.  Charlie stopped writing, consulted the notebook in his left hand, and tapped the chalk on the board, obviously deep in thought. 

Ian moved forward and placed the plate of food on the desk, then treated himself to an armful of mathematician.  Charlie jumped, startled, then leaned into him, pulling off his headphones. 

“Ian,” he breathed.  “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.  Why didn’t you call?”

Ian didn’t answer, but looked behind him on the desk for…  There it was.

“You mean call you on this phone, Professor?  The one that you put down and turned the ringer off?  The one that, hmm, yes, seems to show two missed calls from me?”

Charlie glanced at the phone in surprise, then grinned, color coming into his cheeks.  “Sorry.  I forgot…”

“You can always kiss it better, Professor.”  Ian tried for a serious look that turned into a smirk. 

Charlie raised himself up on his tiptoes and snagged a handful of Ian’s shirt, bringing him in to meet his lips in an enthusiastic kiss.  Ian leaned in, his left hand circling his professor’s waist and his right hand sliding up to get a grip on Charlie’s dark curls.  Charlie moaned and Ian took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. 

Charlie melted into Ian, bringing his other hand up to brush the side of Ian’s face and pressing his body forward, trying to get as much contact as possible.  Ian’s hand moved from Charlie’s waist to his ass, giving it a squeeze and enjoying the feel of his lover squirming against him.  Charlie came up for air, gasping a little.  “Should we take this upstairs?”

“All in good time, Professor.  Your father asked me to make sure you ate something.”  Ian waved a hand at the plate, though it was likely that the food was cold by now. 

“I’m not hungry for that,” Charlie murmured, looking up at Ian through his curls.  Ian swallowed, his jeans suddenly feeling a little too tight.

“Give me a detailed list of what you’ve eaten today and I’ll consider letting you stick this in the fridge,” Ian countered.

“Um.”  Charlie bit his lower lip, thinking.  Ian had to take a deep breath and a step back, certain that Charlie was trying to kill him.  It had been almost a month since the last time they’d seen each other, and all Ian wanted to do was suck that lower lip into his own mouth.

“I did have breakfast with Dad _and_ lunch today – I remember because I was eating with Larry and Amita, and they were telling me about the progress they’d made on the Higgs-Boson project and the presentation they’ve been asked to give at the next International Conference of Applied and Theoretical Physics.  It’s being held in Las Vegas this year.”

“Vegas?”  Ian shuddered, thinking about what he knew of the international physics community being unleashed in such a city.  Vegas had its tourism slogans, but Ian wasn’t sure they were prepared for hundreds of extremely clever, extremely drunk physicists.

Charlie grinned.  “So.  About this ‘upstairs’ idea…”

Ian grabbed the plate and pushed it into Charlie’s hands.  “Fridge first.  I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Charlie raced into the house, nearly tripping up the step and flying into the kitchen.  His leftovers safely in the fridge, he rushed back out into the living room. 

“Charlie, I saw that!  You should eat something.”  Alan called, not looking up from his book.

“Just need to work up an appetite, Dad,” Charlie replied, and had to turn away with a laugh when his father’s face turned red.  He went upstairs, taking them two at a time.


	2. Chapter 2

The room was illuminated only by the lamp on one of the small bedside tables, and Charlie didn’t immediately see Ian as he turned to close the door behind him.  Charlie found himself pinned against the door by a shirtless and barefoot Ian, who smothered his startled exclamation with a rough kiss.  Ian’s hands roved over his body, one sliding under his shirt and the other slipping into the back of his jeans.

“You are wearing entirely too many clothes, Professor,” Ian purred, brushing his thumb over a nipple.  Charlie hummed in agreement, looking up into Ian’s dark eyes.  He shrugged out of his open button-up shirt and lifted his T-shirt over his head while Ian opened the front of his jeans, sliding both the jeans and his boxers down.  Ian held him steady while he slipped his shoes off.  When Charlie came up from pulling off his socks and stepping out of his clothes, he saw Ian dangling a pair of padded handcuffs from his finger.

_His trigger finger_ , Charlie thought, and shivered.

“Yes?” Ian asked.

Charlie stepped forward and kissed Ian thoroughly.  “Oh yes.”

Ian spun him around, gripping both of Charlie’s wrists behind him and securing the cuffs snugly, but making sure they weren’t too tight.  “Do you know what I wanted every night we were apart, Professor?”

Charlie leaned back into Ian, his bound hands rubbing gently at the front of Ian’s jeans.  He tilted his head up and back, trying to see as much of Ian’s face as possible.  “What’s that?”

“You.”  Ian reached around and let his fingertips drift over Charlie’s erection, eliciting a soft moan.  “Your lips, your mouth.  Your perfect ass.  Your incredibly big sexy…brain.” 

A small smile crept over Charlie’s face and he closed his eyes.  “I missed you, too.”

Ian turned him back around to face him and claimed his mouth with a fierce kiss, then put gentle pressure on his shoulders, pressing down and directing Charlie to his knees without using words.  Ian unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zipper down.  His cock sprang free, and Charlie looked up at him, his dark brown eyes huge in his face.  Ian smiled.  “Show me.”

Ian’s low tone sent a shiver of pleasure down Charlie’s body and straight to his own cock.  The longer they spent apart, the more possessive Ian tended to be when they were finally reunited.  The people who knew them wondered how they were able to make it work – Ian was the one who was most frequently out of town, but Charlie had his own share of conferences and consulting jobs for agencies other than the FBI.  There were a lot of variables to consider in their relationship and their assigned values could and sometimes did change, but Charlie had always assigned a particularly high value to the quality of reunion sex.

Charlie paused for just a moment before moving closer to Ian, taking in his excellently toned muscles, his smooth golden-brown skin almost glowing in the dim light.  Charlie’s hands pulled against the cuffs, instinctively wanting to touch and caress, but he also loved the challenge of using only his mouth.  He drew close to Ian’s cock, first allowing him to feel his breath before nuzzling the dark hair at the base and teasing at his balls with his tongue.  He heard Ian’s sharp intake of breath and felt fingers moving gently through his hair as he licked straight up from the base, twirling his tongue around the tip and tasting the pre-cum.  He did this several more times, tracing veins with his tongue, kissing up and down the length of Ian’s cock while enjoying the velvet texture of the hot skin.  Ian was making pleased noises, but Charlie could sense him starting to become impatient.  He allowed himself a satisfied grin and then plunged forward, taking Ian’s entire length in his mouth and pressing his nose into Ian’s skin.  Ian cried out and his fingers tightened in Charlie’s hair as Charlie backed off a little, sucking at the tip and using his tongue. 

Ian tried to keep himself from thrusting further into Charlie’s mouth, but it was hard to resist, especially when Charlie looked up at him through his long, dark eyelashes, his perfect lips wrapped around the tip of his cock.  It had taken a while for Charlie to get comfortable with making eye contact during sex, and Ian encouraged him by letting him know how it affected him.  He pulled at Charlie’s hair and withdrew, nearly losing his control when he felt Charlie instinctively move forward, wanting to continue.  God, his math professor was so sexy.

“That’s enough,” Ian said, bending down and tilting Charlie’s face upward for a kiss.  He could taste himself on Charlie’s lips.  “On the bed.  Now.”  Ian growled.

Charlie staggered to his feet and Ian picked him up bodily and arranged him on the bed to his satisfaction: face down on his knees, ass up in the air.  Ian reached out a hand and stroked Charlie’s back, trying to soothe away the anticipatory trembling.

The lube and a stash of condoms were in their usual place in the nightstand drawer, and Ian wasted no time, slicking up his fingers and probing gently at the puckered ring of muscle.  Ian slid one finger in and was rewarded with a low moan.  Ian took his time though, forcing himself to be patient since it had been longer than usual since he and Charlie were last together.  When Ian was able to get two fingers in, he twisted and crooked them against Charlie’s prostate, causing the professor to cry out and push back hard, wanting more. 

“Yes, Professor?  You want something?”

“Ian, please, just fuck me!”

“Well.  You did say please.”  Ian pulled out his fingers and rolled on a condom, making sure to thoroughly spread more lube before pressing the tip of his cock against Charlie’s ass.  Very slowly, he pushed in and Charlie cried out again.  Ian could feel Charlie taking deep breaths to relax, and pushed in further, then partway out, then back in, further this time.  “Fuck, Charlie, you’re so tight.”  Charlie moaned and pushed his hips back, demanding more.

Ian obliged, building up a steady, firm rhythm before wrapping his hand around Charlie’s cock.  He considered slowing down and drawing it out, but it had been a long time for both of them and he ached for release.  He continued to thrust, adjusting his angle so that he was hitting Charlie’s prostate each time.  He stroked Charlie in time with his thrusts until Charlie’s breath caught, just as it always did before he came.  Ian followed him seconds later with a groan, gripping Charlie’s hips tightly to hold him in place before gently easing out. 

Charlie was panting, eyes closed, curly hair falling over his face with his hands still bound behind him.  Ian could look at him like that forever.  Ian ran his hands down Charlie’s trembling body and made soothing murmurs, removing the cuffs and massaging his wrists.  He urged Charlie under the sheets, stripped down completely and tossed the condom into the waste basket in the corner, and slid in next to him.  Ian wrapped his arms around the smaller man and breathed in his scent – mostly chalk dust and sweat.  Ian loved that smell.

Ian was close to drifting off when he realized that Charlie had said something.  “Sorry, babe.  What was that?”

“Do you know how long you’ll be here?”  Charlie asked again, stroking Ian’s arms where they crossed his chest.

“I’ve got nothing lined up for the next week, but you know how it is.  Perpetually on call.”  Ian tightened his grip on Charlie, hating to have to even think of leaving him again on his first night back.

Charlie pulled at Ian’s arms and rolled over to face him, placing light, soft kisses on his face.  “I can work with that.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ian carefully pulled back the sheets and eased himself out of Charlie’s arms.  Morning light was just coming through the window that overlooked the koi pond, and Ian was ready for a shower and a cup of coffee.  As much as he liked early morning cuddles with Charlie, he knew that the mathematician would continue to sleep for hours if he could, and Ian almost always wanted to let him.  Alan and Don groused about Charlie’s morning laziness, but Ian knew that it was difficult for Charlie to quiet his mind enough for real, restful sleep.  Chronic insomnia and being a natural night owl didn’t help.  Neither did the nightmares.  Ian was used to being the first to fall asleep and the first to wake.  He didn’t begrudge Charlie any sleep he was able to get.

He could smell coffee brewing when he stepped out of the shower, which meant that Alan must be up already.  At least that meant no awkward encounters in the hallway with nothing but a towel to protect him.  Charlie was still snoring softly when Ian crept back into the room and pulled some fresh clothes out of the extra dresser – _his_ dresser, he corrected himself – which Charlie had moved in for him.  It was nice, not having to go through the unpacking and re-packing process whenever he was in town. 

Padding down the stairs in bare feet (Ian never wore shoes the in the few moments he had when they weren’t required), Ian deliberately jostled one of the dining room chairs before pushing through the door to the kitchen.  Sneaking up on people was a well-honed skill, but he tried not to do it to people who weren’t fugitives from the law.  Not to the people he liked, anyway.

Alan wasn’t in the kitchen but Ian could see him through the screen door, sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs on the back porch.  It was a perfect morning for it, Ian thought as he poured coffee into a mug and added two small spoonfuls of sugar.  He stepped out onto the porch and settled into the other chair, saying nothing but a quiet, “Morning.”

Alan nodded but didn’t look up from his newspaper.  His reading glasses were perched on the end of his nose, and he looked absorbed in the article he was reading.  Ian didn’t mind.  Snipers were either accustomed to spending long periods of time in silence, or they weren’t good at their job.  Ian was very good at his job.

There was a period of easy quiet, both men letting the sounds of the birds and the rustle of leaves in the trees mingle only with the sounds of the old Pasadena neighborhood waking up.  The air was cool but not chilly, exactly the temperature Ian preferred.  Summer would be here soon enough, and with it the hot and dry temperatures.  He wrapped his fingers around his steaming mug of coffee and closed his eyes, allowing himself to commit this comfortable feeling to memory so that he could re-visit it the next time he was perched in the back of a sweltering SUV baking in the afternoon heat reflecting from asphalt, waiting for orders.  Although a California summer couldn’t hold a candle to a summer in Afghanistan.  At least California wasn’t also a war zone.

“So, uh…” Alan started, still not looking up from the paper.  “You and Charlie ever think about getting married?”

Ian choked, most of the coffee he had just sipped spraying across the porch.  He hoped that he didn’t get any on Alan, although it would serve the old hippie right.  What kind of question was that to spring on a person first thing in the morning?!

Alan reached over and patted Ian on the back.  “You okay?”

“Um.  Yeah.  I guess I just wasn’t expecting that.”  Ian glanced down at his shirt, which was decorated with small coffee stains, shrugged and used his sleeve to wipe his mouth.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve had to play both Jewish father and Jewish mother for a while, and I can’t nag Don about it anymore.”  Alan smiled hesitantly.

Ian smiled back, but didn’t say anything.  The closest he and Charlie had ever come to defining their relationship was to confirm that they were both happy and that they both wanted to be exclusive for the foreseeable future.  Beyond that, Ian didn’t really feel that any more needed to be said.

“Not really.  It hasn’t come up,” Ian said slowly.

Alan nodded.  “He’s always happy to see you come home, you know.” 

Ian wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.  He didn’t answer to many people, not even at the FBI.  Alan was not FBI and he was not his mother.  And he wasn’t Charlie.  Thus ended the short list of people he felt deserved an opportunity to question him.  But he wanted to try to be fair to Alan.  “And I’m always happy to see him.”

“Have you told him you love him?”

Ian grimaced.  “Not with words.”

“Ah, yes.  Words are hard, just look at Charlie’s Scrabble record.”

Ian couldn’t help but snort at that.  Charlie’s spelling was abysmal.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but I don’t apologize for asking.  Charlie will go on and on about _you_ , but he doesn’t say much about what’s going on between the two of you.  I shouldn’t be surprised, it was the same with Amita.  I just feel obligated to check in once in a while.”

“I can understand that.”  Ian cautiously took another sip of his coffee, this time ready for anything.  “Good things?”

“Hmm?”  Alan raised his eyebrows at him.

“When Charlie talks about me.  It’s mostly good things, right?”  Ian tried to keep his tone casual. 

Alan smiled, looking as though by asking the question Ian had answered one of his.  “I’m afraid he says uncomplimentary things about the FBI when you call to say you have to stay out in the field.  There’s some occasional throwing of chalk, too.  But you?  Good things.”

Ian rolled that thought around in his mind, feeling a warmth spread through him that he knew had nothing to do with the sunlight flooding the porch.


	4. Chapter 4

Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie saw Ian slip inside the door to the lecture hall and take a seat in the back row.  He turned his sudden smile toward his students, and a few of them smiled back wistfully.  Charlie tried not to let his amusement distract him from what he was saying.  When he first started teaching, he wouldn’t have noticed those looks at all.  In his late twenties, he would have tried to cover his embarrassment and confusion.  And now…it was amazing the confidence boost you could get from knowing that the best sniper in the FBI wanted to bend you over a desk whenever possible.

“So you see, this dynamical system is actually a relatively simple one.  These three differential equations,” Charlie turned to whiteboard and quickly wrote out the expressions.  “Specify the system’s behavior over a set period of time.  And practically speaking, you can use these dynamical systems to model things like thermodynamic losses, erosion, basically anything that has a driving force which dissipates over time.  And what we’re interested in today is the subset of the phase space of the dynamical system which corresponds to its typical behavior.  We call this the attractor.”  Charlie jotted down another expression.  “If you go to the web address listed in the class calendar, you can play around with dynamical systems and see how their behavior over time relates to their attractor, and vice versa.  As always, feel free to email me with any questions, and you can stop by any time during office hours.  I also recommend taking advantage of the Applied Mathematics student coaches.  They meet in one of the library study rooms three nights a week.  Now get out of here, you’re done!  It’s lunchtime.”

There was a sudden flurry of noise and activity as the students scrambled to put away their laptops and textbooks.  Charlie turned back to the whiteboard and started to wipe away what he’d written during the lecture, saving Dr. Nguyen – or rather, Dr. Nguyen’s TA – the work.  He wasn’t surprised to feel a pair of hands slide around his waist, under his sport coat.  Over the past couple of years, Ian had persuaded Charlie to start wearing suit jackets and sport coats that actually fit him, instead of the old ones he’d gotten out of Don’s closet after Don had moved to New Mexico.  Rather than swimming in excess material, the new coats hugged his figure and made him look more tailored.  For a given value of tailored, at least.  On regular teaching days and consulting jobs which didn’t involve any agencies outside of the FBI, Charlie still preferred his usual T-shirt and jeans underneath his new threads.

Ian, in contrast, was wearing a tight-fitting black T-shirt which showed off his arms and a snug pair of jeans that would turn heads.  He definitely had Charlie’s attention.  Charlie turned to give Ian a kiss and let his fingertips wander inside the waistband of the sniper’s jeans.

Ian jumped.  “What are you doing?”

“Just checking.”  Charlie had to suppress a giggle.  “You weren’t wearing underwear last night.”

“I took them off before you came in,” Ian admitted.  “Can’t go commando all the time.  Chafing is not sexy.”

“You are, though.  Ready for lunch?”  Charlie started to gather up the papers that his students had turned in at the beginning of class, stuffing them into his satchel.  Ian put an arm around him.

“Attractors, huh?”

“Hmm?  Oh, yeah, there are actually quite a few different types.  They used to think that attractors could generally be represented by simple three-dimensional geometry, but it turns out that the more complex the system, the more topographically wild the attractor.”  Charlie waved a greeting as they passed Ray Ray on their way out to the parking lot. 

Ian smiled.  “Topographically wild?”

“Yeah, you know,” Charlie wiggled his fingers in illustration.  “Lots of bumps and bends and folds.  Wild.”  Suddenly he clapped his hand to his pocket.

“What is it?”

Charlie pulled out his cell phone.  “It’s Don.  Hey, Don.”  Charlie looked up at Ian, trying to convey an apology for the interruption while simultaneously listening to what his brother had to say.  “No, of course.  I can at least take a look at it and let you know what I might be able to do.  When--?  Really, it’s that urgent?  I’m on my lunch break, Don.”  Charlie paused, and turned again to look at Ian.  “What would you do if I said he was?  Hang on.”  Charlie took the phone away from his ear.  “Do you feel like going to the FBI office today, or should I tell Don to shove it?”

Ian laughed.  “No, Professor, I think I can handle a visit to the office.”

“Don said he’d buy us lunch, but I wouldn’t count on anything more amazing than cold pizza.”  Charlie put the phone back up to his ear.  “All right, we’ll be there in a few.  Bye, Donnie.  Yeah?  Then don’t call me Chuck.”

“Come on,” Ian said.  “My truck is parked over there.”


	5. Chapter 5

Charlie stepped off the elevator and made his way toward Don’s desk, Ian following closely behind him.  He and Charlie had an unspoken, unacknowledged rule about touching in the FBI office, or out in the field.  They weren’t hiding their relationship – Charlie had insisted on notifying the human resources department as per policy, which was the first time Ian had ever done that.  One-time office hookups didn’t count as a relationship in Ian’s estimation.  But after his clearance had been reinstated Charlie hadn’t wanted to risk anything that might trigger another review.  And basically everyone in the L.A. office knew about Charlie and Ian, certainly everyone on Don’s team.  They weren’t hiding.  They just weren’t demonstrating.  Ian was more comfortable that way, and Charlie cared about how Ian felt and followed his lead.  Ian had grown up in the military during DADT.  He’d been trained not to be “out” on the job, and some training just sticks.

“Hey, buddy.  Hey, Ian,” Don greeted them and stood, gathering some files.  “Let’s head to the war room, most of the stuff is in there already.”

“How’s Robin?”  Charlie asked.

“Pregnant.”  Don sighed.  “She’s due in July, which means she will be peak pregnant during the hottest time of the year, and she’s already uncomfortable and somehow all of this is my fault.”

“It is your fault, though.  Biologically true.”  Charlie said with a grin.  Don scowled.  “Is there anything we can bring her?  Does she need any help with anything?”

“She’s still working full-time, and will be until she decides to start her maternity leave.  The way she’s going that will be when she actually starts labor.  I try to tell her to take it easy, but—“

“Don.”  Ian shook his head.  “Spend more time giving her foot rubs and less time telling her what to do.”

“Shut up, Edgerton.  I just worry about her, you know?  Anyway, she’s finishing up with a visit to her mother in Long Beach.  They’re shopping for baby stuff.  She’ll probably need a moving van to get it all home.”  Don held the door to the war room open for them.

Charlie went straight to the clear plexiglass board, peering intently at the printouts that were taped at the top.  Ian looked around at the other people in the room, Don’s team.  “Granger.  Sinclair.”  He turned and smiled.  “Betancourt.” 

“Ian,” Nikki nodded and smiled back.

“Hey, Edgerton,” David stood up with a grin and offered his hand.  “Where did you come from?”

“Most recently North Dakota.  Tracking a fugitive through the north end of nowhere and freezing my ass off.  It’s still winter up there.”

“Did you get to see Mount Rushmore?”  Colby asked.

“That’s South Dakota.  And I’ve seen it, it’s nothing special.  Once you’ve seen one gigantic stone face you’ve seen them all.”

“No, Don, I don’t think these are dollar amounts at all,” Charlie’s voice was slightly raised, not in anger, but excitement.

“Come on, buddy, look – they’re four-digit numbers and a lot of them end in three zeroes.  Those look like payoffs to me.”  Don jabbed his finger at a number on one of the sheets of paper.

“Only _mostly_ four-digit numbers, and there’s more to these numbers than that.  Are these copies of the originals or did someone transcribe them from something else?”  Charlie grabbed one of the markers and started to copy numbers down on the board in groups, frequently checking between his hurried scribbles and the numbers on the paper.

“Those are copies,” Don said.  “We made extra copies for you already.”

Charlie waved a hand in acknowledgement and continued what he was doing.

“Where’s Warner?”  Ian asked, looking around.

“She’s on medical,” Nikki said tightly.  “Caught two in the vest a week ago, she’s not cleared yet.”

Ian nodded.  “Tell her I said that bullets are supposed to go in the other direction.”

“You can tell her yourself, if you and Charlie want to meet us at Gonzales’ after we call it a day.” 

Ian looked over at Charlie, who was clearly absorbed in his work and hadn’t heard a word of the conversation.  “I don’t think we’ve got other plans.  Sounds fun.  So, what are we working on, anyway?”

“We made a RICO bust yesterday on a small accounting firm we believe is tied to a drug cartel.”  Don took a seat at the table.  “An _accounting firm_ , which is why we’re thinking that those numbers have to do with _money_.”  He raised his voice pointedly.

“It’s not money, Don.”  Charlie didn’t even turn around.

“Pretty sure it’s money, Chuck.”

“Let me know when you get your degree in number theory, Donnie.”

“Hey!”  Ian barked.  “If I have to listen to this the least you could do is feed me like you promised.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Drink, Charlie.”  Don set a margarita in front of his brother, startling him out of his pensive stare into nothing.  Don was enjoying the evening – as much as he missed Robin and wanted her home, he hadn’t been out at a bar since Robin had told him she was pregnant.  He didn’t want Robin to feel like she wasn’t being included, and pregnant women always got looks and comments from nosy busybodies if they even set foot in a bar, no matter what they were drinking.

“Sorry,” Charlie smiled briefly.  “I was thinking.”

“So what else is new?”  Don chuckled and took a sip of his beer. 

“There’s something really familiar about those numbers and I can’t quite…  It’s just out of reach.”

“It’ll come to you, it always does.”  Don nudged Charlie’s shoulder.  “Relax and take a break.  Your boyfriend’s in town.”

“Yeah.”  Charlie took a large swallow of his margarita and stood, making his way to the bar counter next to Ian and leaning against him affectionately.

“Good evening, Professor.”  Ian slid an arm around his waist.

“I’m sorry our day didn’t quite go as planned.  It wasn’t my intention for you to spend your down time watching me work.”

“I like watching you do pretty much anything, Professor,” Ian said, laying a kiss on Charlie’s temple.  “I don’t mind, it’s good to catch up with everyone once in a while.”

“Warner!”  There was a shout from across the bar.  “Warner, is that you?  How the hell are you?”

Charlie and Ian turned to see two men heading over to the table.  They had the physique and bearing of law enforcement, but Charlie didn’t recognize them as FBI agents.  DEA, probably?  He knew that Liz had worked with them in the past.

“Brady!  Owens!”  Liz stood up, grinning.  “I guess they’ll just let anybody in here.”

One of the men reached out to pull her into a hug, but Liz quickly put her hands up to stop him.  “Nope.  Bruised ribs, Owens.”

“Aw, sorry to hear that.  You on desk duty?”  Owens pulled out a chair and spun it around so that he could sit while resting his arms on the back.  Brady took Charlie’s vacant seat. 

Liz made a face while settling back into her chair.  “I will be until I’m medically cleared for the field.  What are you two doing here?”

“Kicking back while waiting to hear about the next steps in our case.  It may actually end up being a joint thing with you guys, if what I’ve been hearing is true.  A cartel thing.”  Owens flagged down the server and he and Brady ordered beers.

The table was becoming crowded with beer bottles and empty glasses and Don was starting to think that it was time to wind down for the night.  Liz and Nikki were chatting with Owens and Brady, their conversation frequently resulting in bouts of laughter.  David and Colby were playing pool with a couple of other patrons at the end of the bar.  Don was watching Colby show off his ass to one of his new friends while lining up a shot on one of the solid-color billiard balls, but the object of Colby’s attention was trying to stifle her giggles as she noticed David surreptitiously nudging striped balls into the pockets while Colby was distracted.

“Hah.” Brady set his beer bottle down on the table with a thud.  “I think those two are in the wrong bar,” he said jokingly.  Nikki and Don turned their heads in the direction he was looking, and saw Charlie on his toes, wrists loosely crossed behind Ian’s neck as they were kissing and whispering to each other.

“What do you mean by that?”  Don ask mildly, his face composed, but his dark eyes were hard.

“Plenty of gay bars in L.A., don’t know why they felt the need to come in here.”  Brady was not picking up on the looks that both Don and Nikki were giving him now.

“They’re with us,” Nikki said coolly.  “That’s Ian Edgerton, sniper instructor at Quantico.  You’ve probably heard of him.”

“And that’s my brother.”  Don aimed a level gaze at Brady.

“No way.”  Brady’s face was a picture of disbelief.  “That’s Edgerton?”

Liz and Owens were listening now.  Owens leaned in.  “You’re Eppes?  So that must be the math guy.”

Don nodded.  “That’s the math guy.  And my little brother.”  He looked hard at Brady again.  Brady raised his hands slightly and shook his head, showing he wasn’t looking for a fight.

Charlie made his way over to the table, towing Ian behind him.  “I think that’s it for us tonight.  We’re heading home.”  He leaned down to give Liz a quick kiss on the cheek.  “Feel better.  It’s weird not seeing you in the office.”

Liz smiled.  “Night, Charlie.  Night, Ian.”

Charlie tapped Don on the arm.  “Give my love to Robin when you see her, and tell her to text me if she needs any help with the baby stuff.”

“You’re not the expert on everything, Chuck,” Don grumbled half-heartedly. 

“No, but I can follow orders when necessary.”  Charlie grinned at Don’s snort of laughter.  “I’ll call you if I get anywhere with those numbers.”  He gave a friendly nod to Owens and Brady, waved to Nikki, and headed toward the pool table to say good night to David and Colby.

“Gentlemen.  Ladies.  Be seeing you.”  Ian sauntered easily after Charlie.

“I had no idea,” Brady muttered.  “I’d always heard he was such a badass.”

Owens cleared his throat loudly and threw his fellow agent a look.  Both Nikki and Don had cold expressions on their faces, and Liz was looking between them with frown lines creasing her brow.

“I think I’m going to go see what happens when Colby catches David cheating at pool,” Don said, excusing himself and shaking his head.


	7. Chapter 7

Charlie pushed Ian up against the wall, kicking the door closed and gripping fistfuls of Ian’s shirt.  Charlie planted fevered kisses up his neck, and used his grip to pull himself up far enough to tease Ian’s earlobe with his tongue and gently suck it into his mouth.

“Easy, Professor.”  Ian chuckled, sliding his arms around the mathematician.

“Been waiting all day for this.  You always look so good, I want to climb you like a tree.”

Ian let out a full laugh at that before taking Charlie’s mouth in a bruising kiss.  He squeezed Charlie’s ass with both hands, then slid them down further for better leverage to lift Charlie up so he could wrap his legs around Ian’s waist.  “Climb away.” 

Charlie cupped Ian’s face with both hands and kissed the tip of his nose, then his lips, letting his own lips part so that Ian could taste him.  He wondered what he tasted like just then.  Probably margaritas and salt from the chips and salsa, he decided.  Ian didn’t seem to mind it.

Ian took a couple of steps back and sat heavily on the bed, still holding Charlie so that he was in his lap.  He moaned, seeking more friction with Charlie while tearing off his coat.  Charlie reciprocated, lifting at the hem of Ian’s shirt so that he could pull it over his head.  When they were both shirtless, Charlie suddenly shoved Ian flat on his back, running his tongue along the sniper’s collarbone and making his way to a nipple, using his fingers to tease the other one.

Ian gasped.  “Oh, fuck, Charlie!”

Charlie smiled and continued further down Ian’s torso.  “Fuck Charlie, you say?  What a good idea.”  He unbuttoned Ian’s jeans and pulled the zipper down, then slid a hand inside his boxers.  Ian bit back a groan and pushed his hips upward as Charlie cupped him, then stroked him gently.  Charlie kept his hand on Ian’s cock and leaned back up to give him a deep and dirty kiss.  He could feel Ian quivering with suppressed energy.  It was good, so good to know someone this well and for them to know him in return, to be confident and unafraid of making mistakes.

Ian took him by surprise, rolling them over quickly so that he was straddling Charlie’s hips and pinning his wrists to the mattress.  “Don’t move,” he whispered fiercely, locking eyes with Charlie.  “Not a muscle.”  He kissed him hard, felt him melt underneath him, his body going limp and totally relaxed.  Ian got up and stripped himself and Charlie the rest of the way, then retrieved a condom and lube from the nightstand.  He knelt between Charlie’s legs, nudging them further apart while he warmed some lube in his fist.  He probed gently with slick fingers and took the tip of Charlie’s cock in his mouth.

Charlie’s body jerked, but he did his best to hold still as Ian’s head slowly bobbed up and down.  He couldn’t keep himself from uttering soft moans and gasps, and it seemed as though Ian was taking those as encouragement.  Ian gave one last, long suck and then covered Charlie’s body with his own, grinding their erections together and keeping Charlie’s knees wide open with his own.  He buried his hand in Charlie’s hair and gave it a slight tug.  Charlie’s eyes closed halfway and he made a noise that was almost like a growling moan.

“You are wild, Professor.”  Ian smiled, remembering Charlie’s lecture.  “Topographically wild.”

Charlie’s eyes flew open.  He forgot Ian’s previous instructions and grabbed his shoulders, sliding his hands up until they were on either side of his face.  He stared into Ian’s eyes intently.  “You.  Are.  Brilliant.”  Charlie rose up and kissed him.  “So brilliant!”

Ian had no idea what was going on.  “Are we talking generally brilliant, or specifically brilliant?”

“You,” Charlie kissed him again.  “Are the total package.  But now I know what those numbers mean.  They’re—“

“No!”  Ian hastily smothered Charlie’s explanation with his mouth.  “Unless there is a ticking clock, a literal bomb, or someone’s life on the line, whatever this is can wait.  No stopping sex for epiphanies, it’s against the rules!”

“Since when is that a rule?”  Charlie gasped, squirming underneath Ian’s body.

“Since two seconds ago.  Now pipe down before I fuck those numbers right out of your head.”

Charlie laughed, which turned into a strangled yelp when Ian pulled him down the bed, lifted his legs to his shoulders, and pushed his way in.  He built up a steady rhythm as Charlie relaxed, then upped the intensity of his thrusts.  His need for release was urgent and judging by the noises he was hearing, Charlie was right there with him.  He reached between them and took Charlie’s cock in his hand, stroking hard until he came with a harsh gasp.  Ian followed him over the edge after a few more thrusts.  He fell next to Charlie on the bed, breathing hard.

“Still remember those numbers, Professor?”

“Barely,” Charlie laughed again, a little breathlessly.  He got up and fished a towel out of the laundry hamper, cleaning himself up and then tossing it to Ian. 

“Where are you going?”  Ian raised himself up on an elbow.

“Shower.  Garage.”  Charlie pulled a fresh T-shirt and jeans out of his dresser, then came around to Ian’s side of the bed.  “Thank you.  Get some sleep.”  He kissed Ian on the lips, then the cheek, then the forehead.

“You sure you don’t want some company in the garage?”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be.  You should sleep, I’ll be fine.”  Charlie grinned at him and then streaked down the hallway to the bathroom.

Ian chuckled and stretched out on the bed.


	8. Chapter 8

“Who are we waiting on?”  Charlie was practically vibrating with impatience, clutching his laptop to his chest and bouncing one of his knees up and down rapidly.

“Merrick got a call from the local DEA office.  They’re putting one of their own teams on this to create a joint task force.  Apparently our RICO got in their drug shipments, and vice versa.”  Don stifled a yawn and glanced at his watch.  “Settle down, Charlie, they’re not late yet.  I’d offer you a cup of coffee, but you clearly don’t need one.”

Ian, leaning against the far wall of the war room with his own cup of coffee, said nothing.  He’d woken when Charlie had finally come to bed, but it was right before Ian would have gotten up anyway.  He knew Charlie was only running on a couple of hours of sleep.  He’d have to make sure to tire him out tonight so that he could get some real rest.

Liz poked her head in.  “Just got a call from the desk downstairs.  Our friends from the DEA are on their way up.”

“All right, call the rest of our team in.  Charlie, if you’re going to need that laptop for your briefing you should get it set up.”  Don surveyed the room and picked up a few empty paper plates and old coffee cups, dumping them in the trash bin.  He didn’t want the DEA team to get the impression that the FBI was sloppy.

Colby came in with some files and started arranging them on the table.  “Hey, Charlie.  Don says you cracked those numbers.” 

Charlie looked up from his laptop and smiled.  “Well.  Ian helped.”

Colby and Don both looked back at Ian, who had choked on his coffee. 

“I’m not even going to ask,” Don shook his head, but there was a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

Liz ushered the five members of the DEA team into the war room, who were followed by David and Nikki.  Don stood and made his way to the front of the room next to Charlie, waiting for everyone to get settled before making introductions.  He already recognized Owens and Brady from the bar last night, and struggled to keep an open mind about how this joint task force was going to operate.

One of the DEA agents he didn’t recognize walked up and offered a hand.  “Agent Eppes?  I’m Agent Sofia Cruz, I lead this team.  I’m looking forward to working with you.” 

Don shook, nodding at the group.  “I was thinking introductions first, I’ll give a run-down on our RICO case, and then Charlie can take over from there.”

“The math guy.”

“Yeah.  Does that sound good?” 

Cruz shrugged.  “Sure thing.  We can fill in the gaps with our information on the drug shipments.”

“All right, listen up,” Don barked, getting the attention of the room.  “Our directors think that our cases are related which means that we’re playing in the same sandbox on this one.  Meet your teammates.  That’s David Sinclair, Nikki Betancourt, Colby Granger, and I know at least a few of you already know Liz Warner.  I’m Don Eppes, lead agent, and this is my brother Dr. Charles Eppes, who’s going to be briefing us on some of the facts of the case.”

Agent Cruz stepped up.  “I’m Sofia Cruz, team leader on the DEA side.  These are Steven Wilcox, Greg Owens, Luke Brady, and Jean Davenport.  FBI is the lead on this case but it’s a joint operation.  Each agency here will get credit so there’s no point in getting territorial.”

“What about him?”  The agent introduced as Wilcox jerked his head toward the back of the room, at Ian.  Don saw Brady nudge Owens with his elbow and smirk.  He felt his task force optimism fading fast.

“That’s Ian Edgerton, top sniper instructor at Quantico and recently ranked third best shot in the nation.”

“We need a sniper on this op?”  Davenport tapped her pencil on her legal pad.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m just nosy,” Ian said. 

“Okay, in the interests of time I’ll make this quick so that we can move on.  Two days ago we made a raid on Capstone Associates CPAs after receiving a tip that they were handling money for a local, relatively small-time drug cartel.  We made two arrests and our forensic accountants are currently going through their records, and they’re turning up a lot of evidence that our tip was legit.  Our raid also turned up some records that aren’t consistent with the financials, which is where Charlie comes in.”  Don turned and nodded to Charlie, who brought up an image on the conference screen.  It was a white field with numbers in black ink, arranged in apparently random intervals.

“These are scans of the original documents that were recovered from the firm’s offices.  Now, as you can see, these do not resemble the columnar formation that you’d expect to see on a sheet of financial data.”  Charlie turned towards his audience.  “And that’s because this isn’t financial data.  These numbers here—“  Charlie tapped a key and some of the numbers were highlighted in yellow.  “These represent measurements of elevation, mostly likely using feet as the unit of measurement.  So what you’re seeing here is a reference to a topographic map but without any of the contour lines or other conventions which you would typically use to represent the topography of a particular area.”  Charlie beamed at them expectantly, as if waiting for them to get it.

“Okay, Charlie, so those numbers aren’t money.  What’s the point of a having a map with numbers and no lines?” David asked.

“You can think of it as a kind of code.  These numbers are in fact representing a location, but without additional references, the right context, or the code key, it would be pretty difficult to say exactly where.  This way if, for example, your friendly neighborhood FBI agent gets a hold of this piece of paper, it would be meaningless to them without knowing what – or where – it was supposed to represent.  And given this firm’s probable connections to the drug cartel, it’s likely that the locations represented by these numbers have a material connection to the case.”

“Did you recover any actual maps from the scene or find anything in your suspects’ web browsing history that would tell us what these locations might be?”  Cruz asked.

Don shook his head.

“Then what are we even doing here?”  Owens’ tone had a faint tinge of disgust to it.  “You tell us you have a map but there’s no way to know what it’s a map of.”

“Ah, yes, thank you – Agent Owens, wasn’t it?  Thank you, Agent Owens, for that perfect segue into this next slide.”  Charlie tapped another button on his laptop.  This time the screen showed a complicated set of numbers and symbols, one of Charlie’s algorithms. 

“It would be a mistake to assume that the numbers that we know represent elevations are arranged in a scalar relationship with each other, because again, we lack the original context and therefore have no reliable way to determine scale.  However, I made the assumption that these groupings directly relate to the original maps.  And because these elevations are likely measured in feet, I also started from the assumption that the topographic map they relate to represents a location within the United States and its territories.  There are a lot of different topographical conventions – these numbers appear to be most consistent with the U.S. convention.”  Charlie exited his presentation and brought up a web page. 

“The U.S. Geological Survey has publicly available topographical maps of basically every area in the country and territories, and I have a friend, a geologist, who provided me access to the raw data in their database instead of the public maps.  With the algorithm that I designed, I was able to conduct a search of that database to create a list of locations most likely to be represented by the groups of numbers on the three sheets that were recovered from the accounting firm.  Here are my results.”  Charlie brought his presentation back up and went to the last slide.

“What we’re looking at, agents, are several locations that are practically right in our backyard.  These are three locations within the Angeles National Forest.  The topographic maps of these areas show elevation measurements that are a 90% match for the number groups in our invisible maps here.”

Liz spoke up.  “What’s so important about these locations?  These look fairly remote – far away from the popular campgrounds and hiking trails.  They can’t be part of a shipping route, since they’re not close to any state or international borders.  Why would our cartel be interested in these?”

Charlie smiled.  “Well, you guys are the experts in this area, but I have an educated guess based on what I know about the facts of the case.  As you know, while marijuana may be legal here in California, that’s not the case in the majority of states, including several that border California.  And even here, the production of legal marijuana products is under tight regulatory control.  There is still a lucrative market for less than legal product not just here in the States, but in other countries.  And there are several strains of marijuana which might not be as high quality as you can get from the legal dispensaries, but that grow pretty easily in this climate and at these elevations.  Growing in remote forested areas makes these farms difficult to spot from the air or in satellite imagery.  The small number of U.S. Forest Service rangers assigned to the Angeles National Forest are responsible for a lot of geographic area, further reducing the likelihood of discovery.”

There was silence in the room.  Ian couldn’t help a feeling of pride swelling in his chest.  He didn’t understand much of Charlie’s voodoo, how he did the things that he did, but Charlie’s conclusions were solid.  He had just saved the FBI and DEA weeks, maybe months of investigative legwork.

“Doesn’t anyone have any more questions?”  Charlie asked, a little plaintively.  “I didn’t even get a chance to tell you how an opisometer works.”


	9. Chapter 9

The breeze coming in through the cracked window made the room cool enough for Ian to be comfortable getting cozy with Charlie under the sheets.  The difference in their heights made Charlie the perfect little spoon, and Ian had an arm thrown loosely around the mathematician, his face inches away from Charlie’s curls.  They were still damp from the long shower.  In spite of California’s perpetual drought they’d stayed in there together until the hot water ran out.  Charlie had rationalized it by pointing out all of the ways he, Alan, and Ray Ray had made the old Craftsman house more energy efficient.  Still, it was a good thing Alan preferred to shower in the morning.

Ian hoped Charlie was just about ready to fall asleep.  It had been difficult to pry him away from the FBI office after Don and Agent Cruz had handed out assignments to their teams, and then to keep him out of the garage when they got home.  Ian had finally resorted to whispering something obscene into his ear to get his full attention.  It had at least resulted in a fun hour spent running slippery hands over each other’s bodies, and Charlie in what Ian privately thought of as his adorable “wet poodle” look.  Ian had never shared that observation with _anyone_ , however, and intended to take it to his grave.

“Don said you put in a request through the official channels to be part of the case.”

Damn.  Charlie was still awake.

“They’ll need a tracker for recon, and it keeps me in L.A. until we close it, unless the FBI decides it needs me somewhere else.  Are you all right with that?”  Ian pressed his lips to the back of Charlie’s head.

“Are you all right with working with the DEA on this?”

Ian was surprised by the question.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Charlie was quiet.  Ian waited him out.

“I don’t know.  I can’t really put it into words.  I’m not like you and Don, Ian.  I can’t read people very well and I know that there’s a lot that goes over my head.  I guess it’s just a feeling.”

“Well.”  Ian tried to think of what to say.  “You’re not wrong, but I’m not sure that it’s anything that you or I need to worry about.  I’m used to it, Charlie.  Military, law enforcement – they’re both slow to adapt to change.  It’s not like academia.”

Charlie snorted.  “What do you know about academia?”

Ian said nothing, surprised by Charlie’s bitter tone.  Charlie sighed.  “I’m sorry, Ian, I didn’t mean that the way it came out.  The phrase ‘liberal academia’ exists for a reason, it’s true, but when you consider that tenure means that the old guard basically have lifetime gigs, a lot of institutional power, and the ability to hand-pick their successors, you can see that it’s not quite as liberal as you might think.”

“You never said anything.”  Ian couldn’t quite keep a note of accusation out of his voice.

“Ian, if we academic types aren’t trading snide barbs about each other’s work then we’re trading snide barbs about each other’s personal lives.  It’s really not too far out of the realm of what I got when I was dating Amita.  I mean, I was her thesis advisor first…people talk, they’re always talking.  Larry says that if people stopped talking then the walls of the faculty lounge would collapse from lack of adequate air pressure.  But it’s usually only in certain circles.  It’s not a problem.”

“Would you tell me if it became a problem?”

“Depends on how many guns you have on you at the time,” Charlie joked, and Ian pulled him closer.

“Don’t worry about the DEA, Charlie.  They should consider themselves lucky to have the privilege of working with the best team in the FBI, an extremely sexy math consultant, and a decent sniper, if I do say so myself.”

“You’re not just decent, you’re the best.”

Ian smiled and let himself drift off to sleep.

01101110 01110101 01101101 01100010 01100101 01110010 01110011 0001010

A small noise awakened him.  Ian’s eyes shot open.  He was used to being able to sleep easily pretty much anywhere at any time – years in the military and on hunts and stakeouts for the FBI had taught him that.  But he had also learned to go straight from a dead sleep to being wide awake.  It was a matter of survival.

Charlie was curled up on the far side of the bed, whimpering in his sleep.  Ian hurriedly turned on the bedside lamp, then softly touched Charlie’s back, gently rubbing in small circles.

“Charlie, babe, it’s a nightmare.  Okay?  It’s not real, you can wake up now.  Come on, I’m here, I’m here, you’re safe.  Wake up, babe, please.”

Charlie abruptly stopped whimpering, but his breath was coming in sharp pants.  Ian carefully rolled him over so they could look at each other, and took Charlie’s face in his hands.  “Slow breaths, Charlie.  Breathe deep and slow for me, okay?”  There were tear tracks running down Charlie’s face but Ian could see that he was trying to calm down. 

Don had told Ian that when Charlie was a kid he would wake up screaming at least once a week.  Alan and Margaret had taken Charlie to see doctors and psychiatrists, on top of all the tutors and specialists he was already seeing, until Charlie finally stopped screaming.  He was still having nightmares, but he had trained himself to stay quiet so that he wouldn’t have to see any more doctors or take any of the prescriptions they tried on him.  Charlie would often crawl into bed with Don after, and Don never said a word to their parents.  Alan probably didn’t know that Charlie had never stopped having nightmares.

“Who was it this time?”  Ian asked, when Charlie seemed to be breathing normally. 

“Don.”  Charlie’s reply was a harsh, broken whisper.  “Don, and Robin, and the baby…”

Ian pulled Charlie into a hug as a look of anguish twisted his features.  He looked like he might start crying again.  “It wasn’t real, babe.  It’s okay.  They’re okay.”

Charlie buried his face in Ian’s chest, letting out shaky breaths.  “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be sorry.  Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”  Charlie tried to pull away.  “I’m going to go work.”

“No, Charlie, stay,” Ian entreated.  “Stay here with me, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

Charlie looked up at him hesitantly, his eyes still wet with tears and haunted by whatever horrible thing had been in his mind.  “Okay.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Hello!”  Don called as he walked into the house.

“Donnie?”  Alan opened the kitchen door and poked his head out.  “You’re here early, you want to come in here for a cup of coffee?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Don said gratefully.  Alan handed him a steaming mug.  Ian was leaning against the counter sipping his own coffee.

“How’s your wife?”  Alan asked.

“She came home last night.”  Don smiled, his eyes soft.  “She did end up being able to fit all the baby stuff from her shopping trip in the car and I managed to get it all into the house.  She’s started to feel the baby kicking, but she stopped kicking when I tried to feel it, too.”

“She?”  Ian raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well, it’s about time there was a girl in the Eppes family.”

“You got that right.”  Alan said happily.  “Bring Robin over for dinner tonight, it’s Friday.”

“Brisket?”

“Yup.”

“We’ll be here.  Is Charlie around?”  Don glanced out the window toward the koi pond, and then tried to see if there were signs of life visible through the garage windows.

“Still asleep,” Ian said noncommittally. 

“I’ll wake him up.”  Alan pushed through the kitchen door.  Don and Ian heard him go up the stairs.  Ian got up and took another mug out of the cupboard, filling it with coffee and stirring in a splash of milk and three spoonfuls of sugar.

“He stayed up all night working on the topographic algorithm,” Ian said, trying to keep his tone neutral.  “Didn’t get much sleep last night, either.”

“Wouldn’t that be your fault?  And if it is I don’t need the details.”

“No, it wasn’t my fault.  He didn’t sleep well.”

“Oh.”  Don frowned.  “You know, I didn’t ask him to work through the night—“

“You never have to ask him, Don, he’d do it regardless.  Forget I said anything, it’s the way he is.  If it weren’t something for you, it would be his Cognitive Emergence Theory or some other project.”  Ian took another sip of coffee.  “It’s just hard to see him have a bad night.”

Charlie entered the kitchen, blinking sleepily, his tousled hair going off in all directions.  Ian held out the coffee he’d made.

“Thanks.”  Charlie smiled and kissed Ian on the cheek.  “Don, Dad said you needed something?”

“Uh yeah,” Don said, his expression slightly guilty after glancing at Ian.  “We were wondering if you could go over some satellite imagery for us, to see if we can narrow down the areas to search for those pot farms that you said were in the Angeles.”

“Don, you know those farms won’t really be visible even with recent—“ 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but if there’s any way you could look at the terrain within those locations you found and eliminate sections that are less likely to be able to grow those plants, that would help us when we gear up to scout the locations tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”  Charlie rubbed his jaw, considering.  “I’m not an expert in horticulture but I know people who are.  I’ll take it to Dr. Chen in the biology department after my game theory seminar this afternoon.”

“Thanks, buddy, I appreciate it.”  Don clapped him on the shoulder.  Charlie hesitated, then gave Don a quick, awkward hug and fled to the dining room with his coffee.

“What was that about?”  Don asked, bewildered.

Ian said nothing.

01101110 01110101 01101101 01100010 01100101 01110010 01110011 0001010

“The folks in the biology department were actually extremely helpful,” Charlie was saying, laying down large printouts of the Angeles forest locations and pointing to areas that had been outlined and hatched in red marker.  There were also some doodles of marijuana leaves and someone had written “420” in large, bold letters at the top of one of the sheets.

“Dr. Chen really knows his stuff, I guess.”  Don took a long drink of his beer.

“Her stuff, actually, and while she was able to point me in the right direction, her ecology students were a gold mine of information.  Do you know what multistrata agroforestry is?”

“Multi-what?!”  Don frowned.

“Don’t worry, I’d never heard of it either until today, but it’s a really interesting method of growing different types of plants in the same plot.  The students were strangely familiar with a lot of the growing conditions required for different types of healthy marijuana plants.  Amazing, really.”  Charlie laughed.

“Students, huh?”

“You don’t need to know, Don, they’re not part of any cartel.  They’re just a bunch of nerdy stoners.”

“Besides, Charlie’s not a narc, are you Charlie,” Alan said.  He was holding a stack of dinner plates, with cutlery piled on top.  “Clear that off the table, boys.  This is a dining room, not an office.”

“You mean this isn’t the Pasadena FBI office?”Robin said lightly.  “Could have fooled me.”

“Well, this house is certainly filled with FBI agents on a regular basis.  If you had told me that forty years ago I would have thought you were on a bad trip.”  Alan moved around the table, laying out plates, forks, and knives.

Ian came into the dining room carrying a bowl of roasted potatoes, a basket of bread rolls, and the salad.  “Per your instructions, Alan, I have not touched the brisket, but I think it’s time for you to take it out of the oven.”

“Oh!”  Alan set down the last plate and hurried into the kitchen.

“Robin, you’re looking well,” Ian said, arranging the dishes he was carrying so that there was plenty of room for the main course in the center of the table.

“Thanks, mostly I’m feeling well.  I also feel huge.  And slow.  And I’m always losing and forgetting things – not great for an attorney.  My assistant James has been a huge help.”

Ian nodded.  “My sister called it ‘pregnancy brain.’”

“You’ve got nieces and nephews?”  Don asked in surprise.

“One of each.  They’re good kids.  Don’t get to see them very often, the family lives up in Anchorage.”

Ian sank down into the chair next to Charlie.  The mathematician was quiet, as he often was in social situations when the conversation was about something other than numbers.  Ian reached out his hand and took Charlie’s, weaving their fingers together.

“All right, let’s eat!”  Alan set a plate of sliced, juicy brisket in the middle of the table. 

As everyone started reaching around the table and passing serving dishes, Alan cleared his throat.  “I uh…I just want to say how much I appreciate…uh…you all being here.  We’ve got two and a half generations of Eppes gathered around this table and uh.  Well, that hasn’t happened in a very long time.  It’s nice to have the whole family together for dinner.”  Alan blinked rapidly.  He looked over at Ian and Charlie.  “The whole family,” he said again with a slight nod.

Ian felt Charlie squeeze his hand and that same warm feeling he’d had on the porch nestled pleasantly in his chest.


	11. Chapter 11

Charlie poured a little more oil into his palms and rubbed them together to warm it.  He pressed his hands into the muscles on Ian’s back and slid them upwards, maintaining the pressure and shifting both hands smoothly to knead Ian’s right shoulder.  The sniper was nude, stretched out on the bed and so relaxed he seemed boneless.  Charlie wore only a pair of soft black sweat pants and had tied his hair back into a very short ponytail, his wordless signal to Ian that he wanted this to be a real massage and not just foreplay. 

Ian had been surprised, when he and Charlie first got together, about how much Charlie liked to touch.  In public, Charlie had not been the touchy-feely type – not even with Alan and Don, though he was starting to become a little more demonstrative.  But in private, it was as if Charlie were pouring everything he was feeling into skin to skin contact.  Ian understood that.  He wasn’t good with words, either – not the personal words of emotions and truth and vulnerability.

Charlie repeated his movement, this time focusing on the left shoulder.  He frowned slightly in concentration and added a little pressure with his thumb to loosen up a knot under Ian’s shoulder blade, then made a pleased hum when it gave.  Every inch of the back of Ian’s body was treated in the same fashion, with Charlie devoting almost the same intensity of attention that he did when he was working on his blackboards.  His hands on the arches of Ian’s feet caused a deep groaning sigh of contentment.  Charlie finished by giving his hands a quick wipe on his sweat pants to get rid of some of the oil, then lightly massaged Ian’s scalp.

He leaned down to whisper in Ian’s ear.  “If you’re still awake you can turn over.”  He moved over on the bed from his straddle position over Ian.

Ian grunted and stretched his arms and legs like a cat, then raised himself up on an elbow.  He used his free hand to curl around the back of Charlie’s neck and bring him in for a deep, slow kiss.  Charlie reluctantly broke it off first.  “Hey, you took care of me last night.  Let me take care of you.”

“You already have, Professor.  If you ever give up the voodoo thing you could make quite a good living as a masseuse.”  Ian kissed him again.  “I want your whole body now, not just those clever hands.”

“You’ve got an early day tomorrow, are you sure?”

Ian turned all the way over onto his back, his erection lying flat against his stomach.  “You seriously can’t expect me to fall asleep like this.”

Charlie smiled and leaned down to Ian’s ear again, nuzzling then licking down to the lobe.  “Anything you want.”

Ian’s dark eyes suddenly burned fiercely with desire.  “How about slow and kinda kinky?”

Charlie shivered in response.  “Yes.”

“Flat on your back, Professor.  Now.”  Ian got up and opened the second drawer in his dresser, reaching towards the back for what he wanted.  He turned back and took Charlie’s wrists, lifting them over his head and using the padded cuffs to secure them to the headboard.  “Just in case you get any more epiphanies,” Ian said with a wolfish grin.  Then he let the length of black silk fall from his hand to Charlie’s chest.  Charlie’s eyes were wide with arousal, but he looked up at Ian with complete trust.  Ian dragged the silk up, over Charlie’s face, before pulling it tight with both hands and covering Charlie’s eyes, tying a snug knot at the back of the mathematician’s head.

“You’ve had enough time to touch, Professor.  It’s my turn now.”  Ian straddled Charlie’s torso and kissed him deeply, running his hands through the hair on his chest and teasing his nipples.  Charlie gasped and arched his body under Ian, deprived of his sight he had no choice but to get lost in every touch, every sensation.

Ian took his time, getting fully reacquainted with all of Charlie’s sensitive spots and smirking at every noise and twitch, slowly making his way down Charlie’s stomach to the bulge in his sweat pants.  He pulled the waistband down, freeing Charlie’s cock.  He heard a groan as he lazily circled the tip with his tongue, then took it entirely in his mouth.

Charlie cried out as his whole body writhed, but Ian was pinning his legs to the mattress and he could barely move.  His nerves were already on fire from Ian’s slow and thorough attention and he knew he was right on the edge.  “Ian…Ian!”

The sniper ignored his warning and hollowed his cheeks, moving his mouth up and down Charlie’s cock.  He pulled the waistband of Charlie’s sweats down a little further and cupped his balls in his hand, using his fingers to lightly massage the skin behind them.  Charlie gasped and came, and Ian swallowed everything down, almost growling in satisfaction.  He left Charlie panting on the bed to more easily tug his sweat pants all the way off. 

The process of prepping Charlie was almost agonizingly slow, with Ian slowly dipping his fingers in and out while letting his mouth wander across Charlie’s chest.  “Oh god, Ian, please, please…”

That was what Ian had been waiting to hear.  He lined himself up and easily pushed in as deep as he could go, only rolling his hips as he continued to lick and kiss his way up Charlie’s neck.  “Please,” Charlie begged.  Ian could feel Charlie growing hard again, and he picked up the pace and thrust harder.  He took Charlie’s mouth in a kiss and swallowed his moans.  His hands slid underneath Charlie’s body, running from his shoulders down to his ass, then back up again.  He pulled at the knot of the silk blindfold, then slid the fabric away from Charlie’s eyes.  They were dazed and almost completely black, his pupils were so dilated.

“Look at me,” Ian ordered, and Charlie struggled to focus on Ian’s face.  “Come with me.”  Ian slid his fingers around Charlie’s renewed erection and stroked him in time with his thrusts.  Charlie’s breath caught and Ian let himself go at the same time with a yell.

Ian felt drained, wanting nothing more than to just melt into the mattress with Charlie in his arms, but first things first.  He reached up and released Charlie’s hands from the padded cuffs, tenderly rubbing his arms and shoulders and murmuring endearments while Charlie started to come back to himself.

“Are you all right, Professor?”  Ian asked after a few minutes. 

Charlie blinked a couple of times, then pressed his lips against Ian’s cheek.  “Very.”

Ian chuckled.  “Consider yourself thoroughly thanked for the excellent massage.”


	12. Chapter 12

Ian stepped out of the SUV, drinking the last of his morning coffee and then setting the travel mug down in the cup holder.  He was dressed in comfortable layers and sturdy hiking boots, which helped keep off the early morning chill at this higher elevation.  The first light of sunrise was just starting to become visible over the mountains as he, Don’s team, and the DEA team geared up to scout the first of the three locations that Charlie had found for them.

Opening the back of the SUV, Ian retrieved his rifle, unzipping the soft case and checking over his weapon.  He didn’t want to be caught in the hills again with just his Glock, not after what had happened with the rock climbers a few years back. 

“All right, Forest Service says they haven’t seen recent signs of anyone driving up here, but vests on, and keep your eyes open.”  Don motioned everyone over to where he had one of the printouts Charlie had brought back from the CalSci biology department spread over the hood of one of their vehicles. 

“What are we looking at here?” asked Agent Cruz, adjusting the Velcro strap on the side of her bulletproof vest.

“These areas that are marked in red aren’t good ground for pot farms – see that?  Either they’re too steep, too rocky, not enough cover, you know?  We’re going to prioritize these areas that have a lot of oak and pine.”

Ian stepped up.  “I’ve spotted a couple of game trails leading up to this section here.”  He pointed to an unmarked spot on the map, and then up the mountain.  The agents could see a dense patch of trees just visible through the rocks.  “We’re well away from any of the public trails, so that’s likely where we’re going to see sign.”

“Edgerton is going to take point on this.  If we’re on the right track he’ll be able to tell us, so we’re going to follow his lead.”  Don popped a piece of gum into his mouth and began to chew, an old habit he developed to cope with the adrenaline that usually came with field work.  He looked around at his team, and then at the DEA agents – minus Liz and Agent Davenport, who were providing operational support from the office.  Owens and Brady were muttering to each other.  “Not in the mood for a hike, agents?”

“We’ve been working this cartel case for two months,” Owens said.  His tone was respectful, but Don didn’t like the attitude he felt coming from Brady.  “We’re just wondering why the FBI is taking point on this.”

Don looked at Cruz.  She met his gaze and said nothing, and Don didn’t like that, either.  Was she going to act like a team lead or not?

“I think that the fact that your director agreed that we should is reason enough, but there’s also the fact that we wouldn’t be here right now without one of our guys and the only tracker we have with us happens to be FBI.  If you remember, the FBI and DEA are sharing credit on this one.” 

“One of your guys?  He’s not even an agent, he’s a consultant.”  Brady pulled his vest over his head and shrugged his shoulders to settle it.

“Is there a problem?”  David asked mildly, stepping in.  David was usually skilled at inter-agency politics, but Don thought he detected a little defensiveness around Charlie being questioned as a member of the team.

Cruz finally spoke up.  “No, no problem.  Isn’t that right, Agent Brady.”  It was a statement, not a question leaving room for disagreement.

Don shook his head, determined to maintain his cool.  “Let’s do a radio check and get started.  It’s going to be a long day.”

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Ian took some satisfaction in the fact he’d picked up sign of at least three individuals almost as soon as they’d started up the game trail.  He intentionally put a little distance between himself and the rest of the group.  They weren’t talking much, but he didn’t trust them to stay quiet enough not to alert anyone who may be in a position to hear them coming.  Don knew how to keep his team under control but Ian had his doubts about Cruz.

It was too bad that he was hiking for work instead of pleasure – it was a perfect day, completely clear sky and still early enough in the year that he wasn’t expecting to even break a sweat during the heat of the day.  Under different circumstances this would be a great hike for him and Charlie.  Charlie couldn’t keep up with Ian’s natural ground-eating pace, but that came of having a shorter stride and a propensity to become easily fascinated by details on the trail.  Ian enjoyed slowing down to appreciate the scenery once in a while.  And letting Charlie set the pace ahead of him usually afforded him a great view of Charlie’s ass.

They were just approaching the trees when Ian turned and signaled to get Don’s attention.  He held up a hand to tell them to stop and wait, indicating that he was going on ahead to scout and then report back.  He turned off his radio, just in case, then silently crept forward into the trees. 

There was the smell of a camp fire – probably uphill of his location, based on the direction the wind was blowing.  He could also see dense green patches of vegetation in that direction, shaded by the tall pines.  Bingo.  He left the trail and carefully circled around so that he could get a better vantage point on where the camp was likely to be. 

Ian had to use his hands to scramble up a particularly steep section of his route, but he had good cover, and he knew how to move so that he wasn’t kicking off small landslides as he climbed.  He paused, staying low to the ground, when he caught sight of the tents.  They were covered in camouflage netting, and Ian could see faint smoke rising just beyond them.  These guys were smart enough to use completely dry wood, at least.  Two tents, each big enough to hold two adults. 

Ian waited.  He was good at waiting, and he wanted to give Don a hard count.  He set the butt of his rifle against his shoulder and sighted through the scope, safety on and finger nowhere near the trigger.  Through the scope he could see two heads just beyond the far tent – it looked as though they were sitting close to the camp fire.

He heard a distant noise, like the zipper on a tent.  Shifting slightly, he spotted another head emerging from the second tent.  At least three, which was consistent with the sign he’d seen on the game trail.  Still he waited.

His patience was rewarded when the last tent occupant made his way over to the camp fire.  These guys had either been dropped off to babysit the farm, or they’d hiked in from the other side.  Ian was betting that they were on a rotational shift, and that they’d get their ride home when the next shift showed up to relieve them. 

Satisfied with his recon, he backed slowly down the incline to report his findings to Don.


	13. Chapter 13

“Hi, Liz.  Hi, Agent…Davenport?”  Charlie said questioningly, not sure if he remembered correctly.

“Dr. Eppes,” Davenport nodded and smiled, extending her hand.

Charlie took it. “Please, it’s just Charlie.”

“What’s up, Charlie?”  Liz asked.  “Don didn’t tell me you’d be coming in.”

“Yeah, well, I know that there’s nothing for me to work on with your cartel case right now, but I’ve been working with Matt on this image enhancement algorithm and I finally have some time today.”

Liz looked at him in amusement, guessing what was behind his pretense for being at the FBI office.  “Everything’s going fine so far, Charlie.”

“What?  Oh, good.  That’s good.  I’ll just…I’ll just be over here working.”  Charlie gave the agents a flustered grin and set up his laptop at a table in the back of the war room.

“Hold up, we’ve got a call coming in from the sat phone,” Davenport said, pressing a button on the conference set.  “This is Davenport.”

“Davenport, this is Eppes.  We can confirm the presence of a farm at the first location and we’ve got four armed suspects on site.  It looks like our farmers are on shifts, so we’re going to pick these guys up and place another team here for the relief shift, then do the same for the other two locations.  When we get these guys back we’re going to put them in the interview rooms, see if we can’t get a clearer picture of the cartel structure.”

“Copy that.  Warner can make the arrangements on the FBI side,” Davenport looked over at Liz, who nodded.  “And I’ll get in touch with another team from the DEA.  Do you need additional transportation support?”

“Negative, we’ve got plenty of room in the vehicles.  We’ll contact you to get the status on the other teams after we finish up here.”  There was a click as Don ended the call on his side.

“Looks like you were right, Charlie, not that I’m surprised.”  Liz got up and headed toward the bullpen.

“You know, that’s pretty impressive, getting all of that from a bunch of numbers on a piece of paper,” said Davenport admiringly.  “To be honest I wasn’t sure they were going to find anything.”

“Well, the best thing about working in Applied Mathematics is getting to apply, you know, mathematics to real-world problems.”  Charlie smiled.  “But I can’t take all the credit, the ecologists at CalSci were invaluable.”

“I can think of a few things we’re working on at the DEA that could maybe use your insight.”

Charlie’s smile faltered slightly, but his expression stayed polite.  “I’m always open to being asked.”

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Ian cut another wide circle around the camp, heading uphill to try to find a perch with an open view of as much of the farm as possible.  Without knowing exactly what kind of firepower they were up against, Don wanted Ian to provide cover while the rest of the teams split up in pairs to capture each suspect.  Colby, Don, Owens and Brady were coming at them from one side, David, Nikki, Cruz and Wilcox were approaching from the other. 

A rocky outcrop provided a decent vantage point – he wasn’t so far above the site that the boughs of the pine trees significantly obstructed his view, and it was wide enough to get a good idea of everyone’s positions, though he couldn’t see everyone directly.  Ian slung his rifle from his shoulder and checked it once more, keeping some of his attention on the radio chatter.  Don was waiting for everyone to confirm their positions before giving the order to go in.  Ian picked up the radio.  “This is Edgerton, I’m in position.”  He crouched and stretched out, resting the forestock of his rifle on the rock and putting his eye to the scope.  He took a deep breath, held it, and then released it slowly, regulating his breathing rhythm and maintaining his calm.

“Okay, move in!”  Don’s voice came over the radio.  “Move in!  Move in!”

Ian caught a glimpse of movement in his scope, seeing Cruz and Wilcox confront one of the suspects in the middle of a growth of marijuana plants.  A shot rang out, and Ian quickly adjusted his sight to see Nikki pointing her weapon at another while David was cuffing him.  Ian continued to scan the site, unable to see either of the remaining two suspects or the rest of the team. 

“Suspect in custody.”  That was Colby’s voice on the radio.  That left one.

Ian turned slightly, trying to get a bead on the fourth suspect, and something slammed into his right side like a hammer.  He felt another hammer blow hit his arm.  His ears didn’t even register the gun shots.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, that’s shots fired!  Who’s hit?  Who’s hit?”  Don’s voice crackled over the radio. 

Ian knew he should answer but his vision was going gray, and he couldn’t seem to get his arms moving.

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“Warner, we’re getting another call,” Davenport waved Liz over to the conference phone.  She answered the call.  “This is Davenport.”

“This is Eppes, I’ve got an agent down, repeat: I have an agent down.  I need a medivac chopper to this location ASAP, do you understand?”

“Copy that, Eppes, I’m going to use the GPS coordinates from your sat phone.  Are you going to keep this line active?”

There was no immediate answer, but they could hear some indistinct yelling, Don giving orders for the apprehended suspects to stay put.  Another voice was heard, raised but patchy.  It was Colby’s voice.  “…he’s going to bleed out, Don, we don’t have time for this.”

“Eppes!  Are you keeping this line active?”  Davenport shouted.  Liz was already on the phone to dispatch.

“Yeah, we’re staying on this line and making our way down to more open ground.  You can get the coordinates from the phone.”

“Who--?”  Davenport started and turned in surprise at the question.  She’d forgotten Charlie was there.  He was on his feet, gripping the edge of the table as if he needed the support.  “Who’s down?”

Liz leaned over, covering the receiver she was using to communicate with dispatch.  “Don, this is Liz.  Dispatch needs the details for the medivac.”

“Edgerton is down, we’ve got two GSWs to the right arm and right upper torso, bleeding heavily, we need that chopper yesterday.”

“On it.”  Liz repeated the information to the dispatcher. 

“I…I need to get to the hospital, I need to go…”  Charlie’s voice shook as he fumbled his laptop into his bag.

“Charlie, you can’t drive like this—“

“Which hospital?”  He interrupted sharply. 

“You should wait until we know more—“

“Liz, which hospital will they be taking him to?”

“UCLA Medical,” she said.  “But Charlie—“

“Call me if…if you get any more information.”  Charlie slung his bag over his shoulder and rushed out of the war room to the elevators.


	14. Chapter 14

Don reached UCLA Medical two hours after calling for the medivac, with Colby right on his heels.  Even with lights and sirens, the drive down from the Angeles felt like an eternity.  Both of them had dumped their gear at the office, not even bothering to change clothes.  When Liz told him that Charlie had heard the call, his stomach dropped.  He tried Charlie’s phone but it was going straight to voicemail.

The two agents moved quickly through the hospital hallways toward the trauma unit, and Don flashed his badge at the man in scrubs sitting behind the reception desk.  “I’m here for Agent Ian Edgerton.”

“You too, huh?”  The nurse kept shuffling through stacks of paper forms.

“What do you mean, me too?”

The nurse jerked his head.  Don looked in the direction of the gesture and saw a small figure sitting with his back against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest and his head resting on his arms.  “He’s been asking me for information every ten minutes exactly.” 

Don immediately made his way down the hallway to Charlie.  He was suddenly reminded of his little brother, age ten, curled up exactly the same way in the boys’ bathroom at school after escaping from some bullies who’d been looking for him after class.  Charlie had such a big personality when teaching or explaining his math, it was easy to forget how small he could make himself.  Don crouched down.  “Charlie?”

Charlie raised his head.  His face was white and Don could see tears in his eyes, which he was refusing to let fall.  “Don?”  The mathematician tried to stand but stumbled on the way up.  Don reached out and grabbed his shoulders, steadying him.  “Don, they won’t tell me anything!  I’m not—I’m not his family, I’m not FBI.  What happened?!”  Charlie looked down at Don’s shirt, then over at Colby.  Both agents’ clothes were stained with blood.  “You…you have—“

 _Shit._   Don thought.  _Maybe it would have been better to take an extra ten minutes._

“Don’t worry, Charlie, it’s not ours.”  When Charlie looked up at him in horror, Don mentally kicked himself again.  “Come over here, buddy.  We can sit on these benches instead of the floor.”  Don led Charlie to sit down. 

Colby leaned over to speak quietly in Don’s ear.  “I’ll be right back.  Five minutes.”  Colby gave Charlie’s shoulder a squeeze, then disappeared back the way he and Don had come.

Don sighed and rubbed his face with his hand.  “It went bad, Charlie.  We were all set to take those suspects into custody – we had two agents on each.  One of them slipped away and shot Ian while he was in position to provide cover for us.  The suspect was shot by one of the DEA agents immediately afterward.  He’s dead.”  Don paused, trying to decide how much to say, if anything, about the aftermath.  About finding Ian unconscious with blood pouring out of him, of scrambling to secure the three remaining suspects while trying to figure a way to get Ian out of the trees to where the helicopter could pick him up.  He decided to say nothing.

“Anyone here for Edgerton?”  Don saw what he assumed was a doctor step outside the double doors which lead to the trauma facilities.

Charlie shot to his feet.  Don was right behind him. 

“That’s us.  I’m Special Agent Don Eppes of the FBI, Agent Edgerton is temporarily assigned to me.  This is Charlie Eppes, he’s Ian’s… He’s Ian’s partner.”

“I’m Dr. Morales.”  The physician extended his hand to both of them.  If he were surprised or confused about Don’s introduction, he didn’t show it.  “I wish I had better news for you, but it’s still early, and Agent Edgerton is still in surgery.”

“The lesser of the two injuries is actually the bullet wound to his upper right torso.  It looks like the bullet clipped the edge of his vest, slowed down and changed direction.  It traveled under the skin and stopped in the muscle adjacent to the spine.  We don’t think Agent Edgerton suffered any damage to his spinal column,” Dr. Morales said quickly in response to Charlie’s sharp intake of breath.  “We’ll confirm that later with a CT scan if his condition becomes more stable.  The more serious injury was caused by the bullet to his upper arm.  It severed the brachial artery and he experienced massive blood loss.  He went into cardiac arrest in the helicopter, but responded to defibrillation—“ 

Dr. Morales stopped talking as Charlie turned away suddenly and dropped to his knees in front of the trash can next to the reception desk.  Charlie heaved, emptying his stomach of everything he’d eaten that day.  It wasn’t much, but he couldn’t stop retching, even when nothing more was coming up.  Don crouched next to him, gently rubbing his back.

The physician nodded to the nurse at the desk.  “Shawn, can you get Mr. Eppes a cup of water, please?”

The nurse returned shortly with a small paper cup and a bundle of damp paper towels, both of which he handed to Don.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?  Can you drink some water?”

Charlie took the cup with a trembling hand and gulped about half of it.  He also accepted the paper towels and used them to wipe his mouth.  “I’m—I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t worry about it,” the nurse said reassuringly.  “It happens more often than you’d think.”

Don steadied Charlie again as he stood up.  “Please continue, Dr. Morales.”

“All right.  As I was saying, Agent Edgerton responded to defibrillation and we were able to get him into surgery right away.  He’s receiving a blood transfusion and is on fluids to help replace what he lost.  If he comes out of surgery okay, our next worry is hypovolemic shock due to blood loss.  After recovering from surgery he’ll be moved into the ICU while we determine the extent of any potential damage to his organs.”

“When will he be out of surgery?” asked Don.

“Should be a few hours, minimum.  The bullet passed completely through his arm and the exit wound is a bit of a mess.  Who was it that applied the tourniquet?”

“Oh, yeah, that was me.”  Colby said, walking up.  He was wearing a clean, new T-shirt that was a size too small for him.  The letters “UCLA” were stretched tight across his broad chest and the sleeves looked as though they were digging into his biceps.  He held out another T-shirt to Don.  “We used them a lot in Afghanistan.”

“All I can say is that it’s a good thing you used one here, or we wouldn’t have even had the chance to operate.”  Dr. Morales shook Colby’s hand.  “That was good work.”

Colby shuffled his feet in embarrassment.  He didn’t know what to say.  If Ian didn’t make it then it wouldn’t matter what he did or how well he did it.  Dr. Morales turned back to Don and Charlie.  “I’ll be back out when I have more news, and hopefully a better prognosis.”

“Colby, I—“

Colby turned at the touch on his arm and saw Charlie, his eyes filled with tears of gratitude.  Charlie suddenly hugged him tightly, then let go almost as quickly.  “Thank you.”

“Hey, don’t thank me.  You’ve saved my ass at least three times.”  Colby mumbled.  “Ian can buy me a beer when he’s back on his feet.”

Charlie let out a hoarse laugh, then his breath hitched and his eyes dropped to the floor.  Don put his arms around his little brother.  “It’s okay, Charlie, it’ll be okay.”  Don tightened his embrace when Charlie pressed his face into his shoulder, using it to muffle the sounds of the sobs that were racking his body.


	15. Chapter 15

“Donnie!”

Don looked up at the sound of his father’s voice, gently removing his arm from around Charlie’s shoulders.  He was suddenly even more grateful to Colby for buying him a clean shirt – Alan tended to overreact at the sight of blood. 

“Hey, Dad, did David call you?”  Don got up and met his father in the hallway, hoping to give Charlie an extra minute to brace himself for Alan’s well-intentioned smothering. 

“How’s Charlie?  How’s Ian, have you heard?  Donnie, what happened?”

Don glanced back to where Charlie was sitting.  He was unnaturally still, staring at the floor.  Robin was on the other side of him, holding his hand.  She nodded to Don and subtly waved him away.

“Come and get some coffee with me, Dad, I’ll tell you all about it.”  Don urged his father toward the cafeteria. 

“But Charlie—“  Alan turned back in concern.

“He’s okay for now, Dad, just give him a minute or two.”

Robin squeezed Charlie’s hand, but got no response.  He hadn’t even looked up at his father’s arrival.  Robin wondered if he was remembering another time in another hospital.  She knew that she was.  She remembered feeling like her heart was breaking, seeing Don lying in that hospital bed hooked up to all of those machines keeping him alive.  Charlie hadn’t even seen Ian yet.

She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position on the bench – although pretty much every position was uncomfortable nowadays.  She pressed her free hand to her belly.  It seemed as though someone else was also trying to get comfortable.

“Charlie, feel this!”  Robin automatically took his hand and placed it where she felt movement.  “Did you feel that?”

Charlie seemed to wake up, and looked at her in startled amazement.  “That’s…that’s so weird.  Does it hurt?”

“Not right now.  Depends on where she kicks or how she moves.  That’s your niece, you know.”

Charlie tried to wrap his mind around that, the concept of an actual baby who was related to him, who was Don’s daughter, and failed.  He wasn’t close with anyone who’d had a baby, and he’d been the youngest person in any given room for most of his life.  This was an entirely new field for him.

Robin released his hand after the movement stilled.  “Sorry, it’s just still really new for me.”

“No, I’m glad – thank you.  Me too.  That was weird.”

Robin laughed softly.  “You have no idea.” 

“Hey, Charlie, you want some coffee?”  Don and Alan had returned, both of them carrying a cup in each hand. 

Charlie shook his head.  Alan sat down next to him, placing one of the cups carefully on the floor next to the bench and then putting his arm around his youngest son.  Charlie leaned against him. 

Don handed Robin one of the cups he was carrying, bending down to give her a kiss.  “They had tea.”

Robin smiled and accepted it.  “Charlie felt the baby move.”

“What, don’t tell me I missed it again!  I’m beginning to think she already hates me.”

“What is this ‘already’?  Babies don’t hate their parents.  That starts when they’re teenagers.”  Alan sipped his coffee.

“Dr. Morales!”  Charlie suddenly sat up straight, disentangling himself from his father’s arm and getting to his feet.  Don and Alan stood too, while Robin resorted to hauling herself up by using Don’s arm for leverage.

Dr. Morales looked tired – it had been more than just a few hours since he had initially briefed them on Ian’s condition.  “Agent Eppes, Mr. Eppes.  Agent Edgerton is recovering from surgery.”

Charlie let out an explosive breath.  “Can I see him?”

“When we’re able to move him into the ICU, yes, but he’s sedated right now and we won’t expect him to regain consciousness until sometime tomorrow.  Or—what time is it?  Yes, tomorrow.”

“How is he?” asked Don.

“The surgery went relatively well.  His vitals improved significantly with the transfusion and fluids, but I do want to stress that he’s not out of the woods yet.  The next twenty-four hours will be critical.”  Dr. Morales stifled a yawn.

“Doctor, what about…”  Charlie hesitated, took a deep breath, and then continued.  “Is there any nerve damage?”

Don looked at his brother sharply.  He’d been so focused on Ian’s survival, he hadn’t even thought about long-term effects. 

The physician sighed.  “It’s very possible, we spent a lot of time trying to put everything back together.  I can’t say what the extent of it may be, but we’ll know more when he’s conscious and we can run some tests.”

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It was three in the morning and the chair was hard and uncomfortable, not that Charlie needed any help staying awake.  He couldn’t stop the endless flow of thoughts running through his mind, skipping chaotically from idea to concept to notion but always circling back to one question.

_What did I miss?_

That this was _his_ fault, Charlie accepted without question.  He was the one who had figured out the goddamn maps, he was the one who had sent them out there.  It had been the same with the Charm School Boys, and the Russian mob case.  With the train derailment.  Don getting stabbed. 

He missed something, and people got hurt.  And now it was _Ian_ who was hurt, maybe dying, this time.  He lowered his head, gripping his hair with both hands so hard it was painful.  He let out his breath suddenly in something that was almost a sob.  He didn’t look over at Ian’s pale, still face.  His boyfriend wasn’t even conscious and he still couldn’t face him.

“I have to say something,” Charlie said hoarsely.  “And I’m too much of a fucking coward to have said it to you earlier, when it would matter.  I just can’t…if something happens.  I wouldn’t be able to handle it if you…before I said this.  Not that you should take this as permission.”

“I’ve never been normal, Ian.  My entire life I’ve been different at best, a freak at worst.  Some things came so easily to me, but they weren’t normal things.  I’m a natural when it comes to the math, but I’m so behind on the normal things.  My wavelength is out of sync with everyone else’s, I have crests where others have troughs, and vice versa.  My…my frequency is wrong.  It’s a struggle to…I can’t get through to them.  I can either do what comes naturally, or I can fake being normal.  I’ve learned to live with that.  What I am isn’t normal, and normal isn’t natural for me.”

“So, because of that I started to believe that I wasn’t truly capable of love.  Not the kind of love that mom and dad had, or that Don and Robin have, or Larry and Megan.  Not the kind of love that emerges, that lasts.  Not the kind of love that’s…elegant.  But that kind of love is _normal_ , and so I forced it.  I love Amita like I love Larry, I just wanted so desperately to be normal that I pretended it was more.  Oh god, I’m not explaining this right, I’m failing to make myself understood.  I’m sorry.  Thank god Amita and I came to our senses.  She was so understanding.  She deserves so much better than me, and I resigned myself to being alone…”

“But then you came along,” Charlie whispered, pressing his fingers against his eyes to keep the tears at bay.  “And it was…natural.  You and me, it came so easily and I _never_ thought that would happen for me.  I never had to force or fake anything, I never wanted to, I was never really unsure of myself around you.  Do you know how rare that is?  And I know that our relationship doesn’t seem normal to anyone else, but god, Ian, it’s the closest I’ve ever really come.  Nothing else in my life is like this, Ian, and so help me if you take away the one thing I have that is both natural _and_ normal—“ His voice broke. 

“Please.”  He whispered.  “Please don’t go.  Because I love you.  I love you in the way that is elegant.”

Charlie finally allowed himself to look over at Ian, reached out and put his hand on top of Ian’s on the bed.  There was no change.  He tried to tell himself that he hadn’t expected one.


	16. Chapter 16

The first thing Ian became aware of was the pain, a deep, throbbing ache all along the right side of his body.  Ian thought he remembered being hit with two red-hot sledgehammers, but that couldn’t be right.  He could hear noises, now, too.  A steady, rhythmic beeping.  Electronic whirrs and clicks.  Where was he?

He cracked his eyes open.  The fluorescent light hurt – why were the fucking lights turned on?  Nobody could sleep like this.  Very, very slowly, Ian tried raising his head.  His right side burned, but he could see a pile of tumbling dark curls on the bed next to his left hand.  He knew those curls.  He stretched his arm slightly so that he could reach them, feeling a pinch in his arm from—yes, that was an IV.

As soon as Charlie felt Ian’s touch he raised his head sharply, squinting at Ian.  Ian could see bruise-like patches of skin under those weary red-rimmed eyes, which seemed more prominent over at least a day’s worth of stubble.

“You look like shit.”  Ian’s voice was little more than a raspy whisper.

“Oh my god, Ian, don’t you dare tell me I look like shit when _you’re_ the one in a hospital bed, you _asshole_.”  Charlie whispered back in a shaky voice.  “You look like you’re hurting.  Let me call the nurse, I was supposed to do that anyway when you woke up.”  Charlie pressed a button on the corded remote that was wound around the bed rail.

“Should I ask how you’re feeling?”  Charlie gently took Ian’s hand in one of his, and reached up to run his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. 

“Ask me after they give me the good stuff,” said Ian weakly, closing his eyes and letting his head sink back.

It was a few minutes before a nurse came into the room, carrying a syringe.  “Nice to see you awake, Agent,” she said, making her way to the side of the bed to check on Ian’s IV drip.  Charlie flattened himself against the edge of the bed to give her some space, unwilling to let go of Ian’s hand.  “This should help, now that the sedative has worn off.”  She injected the contents of the syringe into the drip, and after a moment the lines of pain on Ian’s face relaxed a little.

“I’ll notify the doctor that you’re awake.  He should be in to see you shortly.”  She patted Charlie on the shoulder.  “I’ll be back with some ice chips that you can give him, okay, hon?”

Charlie returned to softly stroking Ian’s hair.  “Better?”

Ian sighed.  “Yeah.  How long…?”

“Today’s Sunday.  You’ve been out for about 28 hours.  You’ve had surgery.  Do you remember what happened?”

“Was in the forest.  Got shot.”

Charlie closed his eyes and swallowed hard.  “Yeah.”

The nurse returned with the promised ice chips.  Charlie used the bed remote to help Ian sit up just a little, then spooned a few small pieces of ice into Ian’s mouth.  He could see that the pain meds were making Ian tired, and he started to stroke the sniper’s left shoulder.  “It’s okay, Ian, you can get all the rest you need.”

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Hours later, Charlie carefully closed the door behind him, not wanting to wake Ian as he stepped out of the room.  “Don, I want everything you have on this.”

“On what, Charlie?”  Though Don suspected that he already knew what Charlie wanted.

“I want everything in the case file, records of all evidence the FBI gathered from the first scene, all of the statements, all of the ballistics reports, all of the suspect interviews.  Everything.”

“Charlie, don’t do this.”  Don said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“If you’re not going to help me I’ll talk to Nikki.  And if you tell her not to give me anything then I’ll talk to Nikki and she’ll give it to me anyway.  And if she doesn’t then I’ll go through every other member of your team.  I’ll hack the FBI if I have to.  I’m serious, Don.”  Charlie brushed past his brother, not meeting his eyes, his jaw set stubbornly.

“Where are you going?”  Don asked, hoping that the answer would be ‘Home to get some sleep or at least take a shower.’

“I’m going to my car to get my bag.  I’ve got a spare notebook in there, I’ll be back in five minutes.  Tell Ian if he wakes up before I get back.”

Don realized with a start that Charlie hadn’t tried to escape to his numbers or distract himself by working, not the entire time he’d been at the hospital.  He tried to put a finger on why that worried him so much – Charlie’s go-to coping mechanism was to lose himself in the math.  All right, maybe he hadn’t tried to drown himself in P vs. NP in years, but…  Don shook his head.  He remembered the project that Charlie had taken on after he’d been stabbed by that Serbian – he’d obsessed over cases he attributed to a stealth serial killer.  And it looked as though Charlie had found his new coping project. 

Ian cracked his eyes open when Don entered the room.  “Charlie?”

Don chuckled.  “Nope.  Just me.  How are you feeling?”

“Feel like shit, Don, how are you?”  It seemed like the sniper’s sense of sarcasm had made it through surgery intact.

“Better, now that the docs say that you’re gonna be sticking around.”  Don pulled up a chair. 

“Where’s Charlie?”            

“Getting his bag from his car.  He says he’ll be back in a few.”

“I don’t suppose you could make him go home?”  Ian said dryly.  “I’m sure that he’s been here as long as I have.”

“You’re right, he has.  But Charlie only listens to what I say about half the time, and that’s only because I can play the big brother card.  I don’t think this is one of those times.  He’s asking me to get him information on the case.”

“Why?”  Ian frowned.  “He told me that the other two farms are already being wrapped up, that the guys you picked up at the first site have been singing their hearts out.  The case is basically solved, isn’t it?  Your team and the DEA are mapping out the cartel organization to make more arrests.”

Don sighed.  “You know how he gets.”

“What else does he think he’s going to accomplish with that?”

“I don’t even want to ask, I’ll just give him what he wants and let this run its course, whatever it is.”  Don rubbed his face.  He was going to have to get home to Robin soon, he’d put in overtime to get this cartel thing sorted out quickly.  It was always this way when someone got hurt on his watch – he was driven to catch the ones ultimately responsible.  It was the only way he could put things right.  “You owe Colby a beer, by the way.”

“I know.”  Ian shifted on the bed and winced.  “I feel like I owe the whole team for letting one of those guys sneak up on me.”

“Hey, it went bad.  That happens sometimes, even to agents at the top of their game.”  When Ian didn’t respond, Don changed the subject.  “So when are they going to let you out of here?”

“The doctor says a few more days.  I say tomorrow.  I can recover better at home.”  Ian surprised himself.  He’d said ‘home,’ when he was thinking of the Craftsman.

“Look, man, I understand not liking hospitals, but—“

“I’m going home tomorrow and I’m going to shoot anyone who tries to stop me.” 

“You won’t.  I have your service weapon locked up at the office.”  Don said smugly.

A pained look suddenly crossed Ian’s face.  “What about my rifle?”

“It was damaged by the bullet that went through your arm,” admitted Don.  “But I think you could get the stock replaced.  It’s in evidence right now.”

The sniper looked tired.  “I’ve had that rifle for twenty years.”

“I’ll see what I can do to get it released sooner rather than later,” Don promised.


	17. Chapter 17

Charlie opened the door to his house, one hand half stretched out toward Ian, who was slowly making his way up the steps of the front porch.  He had only left Ian at the hospital when he learned of his boyfriend’s plans to continue recuperating at home.  His home.  Their home.

 Charlie had rushed home to pack Ian a bag, making his choices carefully – a button-up shirt instead of a T-shirt.  Loose, worn-in jeans instead of anything that would be too constricting.  He changed the sheets on the bed and got extra pillows out of the linen closet, strategically placing them in the living room and the bedroom in case Ian needed any extra support while he was resting.  Charlie had also taken the opportunity to take a much-needed shower, though he fretted about delaying his return to the hospital.

He ushered Ian into Alan’s squashy armchair and fussed with the pillows, making sure that Ian’s arm in its sling was supported, then spread a throw over his legs.  He made a quick trip to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, which he placed on the side table with Ian’s prescription.  After examining Ian’s set-up critically, he placed the TV remote on the side table as well. 

“Are you all right for now?  Can I get you anything else?  Are you hungry?”  Charlie’s face was a picture of earnest concern.

Ian gingerly leaned back into the chair, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face.  “Nothing, Charlie, I’m fine right where I am.  Although now I can’t help but picture you in a nurse’s uniform.”

Charlie gaped at him, then laughed.  “Am I hovering?”

“You come by it honestly,” Ian chuckled.  “Your father is a world-class hoverer.  You should sit down, Charlie.  I’m not going to be able to relax if you’re on your feet buzzing all over the place.  Where is Alan, anyway?”

“I told him to go ahead to the city planning meeting with Stan – he would have stayed but I told him I could handle it, so you’d better not make a liar out of me.”  Charlie retrieved his bag and pulled out a file before settling himself on the side of the sofa closest to Ian.  “He’s picking up some ribeye on his way home – he says you’re probably low on iron and need to boost your red blood cell count.”

Ian sighed contentedly.  “Beats hospital food.  I never want to look a cup of jello in the face again.”

Charlie’s laugh was quiet and a little distracted.  Ian could see that the mathematician was now absorbed in the contents of the file, so Ian turned on the TV and started flipping through channels at a low volume.  He found an old movie that was just starting and settled in.  When he glanced back at Charlie during a commercial break, he couldn’t help but smile.  His professor was curled up with his head on the arm of the sofa, the open file held tightly against his chest.  He was snoring softly.

Both Charlie and Ian woke at the sound of the front door opening and closing.  It was Alan, with the promised ribeye steaks, and by that time Ian was really feeling the ache in his injuries.  Charlie’s face was filled with chagrin.  “Ian, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep—“

“Charlie, come on.  You’ve barely slept in the last few days, you needed it.  I’m all right.”  Ian tried to keep any of the strain he was feeling out of his tone.

Charlie peered into his face and shook his head.  He grabbed Ian’s prescription bottle.  “You’re supposed to take this with food.  Let me get you at least a piece of toast, you’d still have room for dinner.  Or if you’re not feeling like steak, I can make you a sandwich—“

“Hey, hey!”  Ian interrupted.  “Toast would be great.  There’s no way I’m missing out on steak tonight.”

“Okay, just give me two minutes.”  Charlie dashed to the kitchen.

“What?”  Ian asked defensively, looking at Alan’s raised eyebrows.

“Nothing.  I said nothing.”  Alan tried not to smile as he carried the grocery bag into the kitchen.

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Charlie was good at recognizing patterns, even when he was presented with a limited set of data.  His few previous experiences with helping Ian recover from illness and injury told him that the sniper had very little patience with being fussed over, and even less patience with himself and his own limited strength.  The only reason he’d agreed to Ian checking himself out of the hospital early was because he knew that in that environment, Ian’s patience level on both fronts would be zero.  It was important to keep Ian from pushing himself or withdrawing to lick his wounds in private, without support, and in the time they’d been together Charlie had developed three primary strategies to accomplish this.

The first strategy was minimizing, as much as possible, the ways that Ian’s limitations were thrown in his face.  This is why Charlie had cut up Ian’s steak in the kitchen and placed the plate in front of him without saying a word, instead of cutting it up in front of him as though he were a child.  He did his best to make sure that everything Ian might need was within arm’s reach of his left side, but tried not to be obvious about it.  He was pretty sure that all of the hovering he’d done when Ian had first come home had significantly taxed his patience already, so after dinner it was on to strategy number two: distraction.

There was no way that Ian could have a real shower or bath, Dr. Morales had said that Ian’s stitches needed to stay dry for at least 48 hours.  So Charlie tried to at least make it a pleasant experience, enough that Ian could think of it more like the fun showers they took together, instead of something he currently wasn’t able to do for himself.

The old Craftsman house still had the original bathtub, which was large, old-fashioned and spacious.  Charlie had come to learn that the old bathtub was a feature that he’d never fully appreciated before.  He’d filled the tub with only a few inches of hot water, and draped thick towels around the back and side of the tub to provide some cushioning for Ian’s back and arm.  The sniper’s head was tilted back against the towels, and his eyes were closed.  He’d said little since dinner.  Charlie was in the tub with him, languidly soaping up almost every part of Ian starting with his feet, giving each section of skin careful individual attention.  He cupped water in his hand and used a wet washcloth to rinse away the soap as he worked his way up Ian’s body.  He drained and replaced the hot water in the tub as needed.

Charlie didn’t neglect Ian’s thighs, hips, cock, and balls, but he didn’t spend any extra time on those areas, either.  His touch was intimate without intention, not wanting to start anything that Ian wasn’t up to finishing, and he was careful not to put any of his weight on any part of Ian’s body.  He washed only the left side of Ian’s chest in the same way, and made his way down the left arm.

Washing Ian’s hair posed a little more of a challenge, which Charlie solved by having Ian sit up and tilt his head forward for rinsing, his right shoulder, arm, and back protected by another towel.  He couldn’t stop himself from running his fingers through the short, wet strands as Ian rested his head on his shoulder.

“Are you ready to get out?”  Charlie asked softly.  It was the first thing either of them had said since they’d entered the bathroom.

“You are incredibly sweet, you know that, Professor?”  Ian sighed, not willing to lift his head just yet.

“No, I’m not,” Charlie’s reply was automatic, unthinking.  “I’m incredibly self-absorbed and I miss things.”

Ian did pull away then, turning Charlie’s face to look at him.  “You want to expand on that?”  He followed Charlie’s gaze to his right arm and felt the lightest of touches as Charlie let his fingers rest on his right hand.

“Charlie, you know this wasn’t your fault, don’t you?”          

A brief, tight smile was his only answer as Charlie climbed out of the tub, and reached out help Ian to his feet.  “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

Ian allowed himself to be gently toweled off, and Charlie wrapped the towel around his waist, tucking in the corner so that it wouldn’t fall.  He did the same for himself and led Ian back to the bedroom.  But when Charlie reached for Ian’s pajama bottoms, which he only wore half the time anyway, Ian snaked his left arm around his neck and turned him so they faced each other.  Charlie swallowed when he saw the look in Ian’s eyes.  It wasn’t lust or desire.  It was need, a hard need that only tangentially had anything to do with sex.

The third strategy was tricky to employ given Ian’s current injuries, but Charlie gave in and allowed himself to be drawn in for a bruising, plundering kiss.  Ian shifted his grip and caught the back of Charlie’s neck in the crook of his elbow, holding him securely in place while he sucked Charlie’s bottom lip into his mouth and bit down softly.

Charlie gasped and moaned, struggling to keep his hands to himself.  He tried to go up on his toes to get more contact but Ian flexed his arm, preventing him from rising and only allowing Charlie to take what he was willing to give.  Charlie felt Ian’s erection through the towel, pressing insistently against his hip, and when Ian finally relaxed his arm, Charlie went to his knees, gently tugging the towel down to the floor.

Control was what Ian craved most when he had so much of it taken from him like this.  He hadn’t become such a skilled sniper without years of developing total control over his body, his breath, and his rifle, which he thought of as an extension of himself.  Charlie knew all of that, which is why he knew what Ian wanted – no, _needed_ – right now.  The third strategy wasn’t necessarily about satisfying Ian’s sex drive.  It was about satisfying his need for control.

Charlie removed his own towel and used it to cushion his knees, then rested one of his hands on Ian’s hip, and firmly gripped the base of Ian’s cock with the other.  He knew that now was not the time for teasing, but he still ran his tongue around the head, lapping up the pre-cum and spreading a generous amount of saliva on the soft skin.  Then he took it completely in his mouth, sucking hard and building up a good rhythm.  He moaned around Ian’s cock, feeling it twitch in his mouth as he did so, and tried to relax his jaw as much as possible.  He took Ian deeper, almost his full length, maintaining his rhythm.  He felt Ian’s fingers running through his hair, gradually becoming more insistent before taking a strong grip.  Charlie took his hand away from Ian’s cock and leaned forward slightly, opening his throat.

Ian growled and thrust into wet heat of Charlie’s mouth.  He knew that it wouldn’t take much, and was proven right when the sight of Charlie’s eyes looking up at him through his curly black hair pushed him over the edge.  His last thrust brought Charlie’s nose right against his skin and he came, holding Charlie in place for a few seconds before backing off a little.  Charlie panted and coughed around his mouthful but swallowed, using his tongue to clean up anything he’d missed.

Charlie picked up a towel to pat Ian dry, wiping his own chin when he was finished.  He stood up to give Ian a gentler kiss, then turned to put the towels in the laundry hamper.

“Hang on,” Ian said, wrapping his arm around Charlie’s waist.  “What about you?”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine, I’ll just—“

“No.”  Ian shook his head.  “How about you go get the lube.”

Charlie frowned slightly but did as Ian asked, slicking up Ian’s left hand when he held it out.  Ian moved so that he was up against Charlie’s back, reaching around with his lubed hand and taking a hold of Charlie’s cock.  Charlie tried to keep himself from leaning against Ian as he slowly started to jerk him off, opting instead to thrust slightly to meet Ian’s movement.  Ian’s technique was a little awkward, as he wasn’t using his dominant hand, but when he tightened his grip and started to twist his wrist slightly he was rewarded with a loud moan.  Charlie’s thrusts started to become more urgent, Ian’s grip slightly more firm, and when Ian thought Charlie was nearly there he bit down on the muscle where Charlie’s neck met his shoulder, sucking hard enough to raise a bruise.  Charlie gasped and came in Ian’s hand, trembling, oversensitive but letting Ian give him a few more lazy strokes.  Ian nuzzled at his handiwork, wiping his hand on one of the towels Charlie was still holding. 

“Come to bed, Professor.”

Charlie caught his breath and nodded.  “I think you should sleep on the other side.  I don’t want to risk hurting you.  Or, you know, I can just sleep in Don’s old room—“

“Professor.”  Ian growled again, carefully settling himself on what was customarily Charlie’s side of the bed.  “Get your pert little ass in bed.”

Charlie grinned and joined Ian under the sheets.


	18. Chapter 18

Ian casually glanced up from the armchair to see if Alan was in the room, and then tenderly eased his arm out of its sling when he saw he was alone.  It hurt, but he’d expected it to, and he needed to get a better feel for how bad it was.  Once it had been clear that Ian’s organs were functioning well enough in spite of the blood loss, Dr. Morales had walked him through the potential for nerve damage.  There was mention of extensive physical therapy and maybe even future surgery.  Ian pushed all of that out of his mind as he held his arm up, watching the shaking in his hand increase until he couldn’t hold it up any longer. 

He felt a moment of panic and bile rise up and he closed his eyes, trying to breathe through it.  It was still early on, he wasn’t anywhere close to healed.  He wondered how soon he could start to practice shooting left-handed at the range, with both rifles and handguns. 

“Ian?  Are you all right?”  Alan asked, setting a plate of sandwiches down on the side table.

“Fine,” Ian said shortly.  “Just thinking.”                        

Alan nodded.  He sat down on the sofa and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels until he found a game.  Ian didn’t mind baseball, but he couldn’t even begin to bring himself to care about who was playing or what the score was.

“Did Charlie say when he’d be home today?”

Ian grunted.  “He’s got his morning class, but he was planning to go to the office in the afternoon.  He should be home for dinner.”

Alan was silent for a moment, seemingly completely focused on the game.  “You know Donnie, he played in the minor leagues.”

“Yeah, he plays on the FBI team, too, right?”

“That’s right.”  Alan smiled proudly.  “He grew up playing baseball, wanted to be a professional ball player his entire life.”

“And he did it.  Maybe not the majors, but it’s closer than a lot of kids get.” 

“Yeah, but he quit after blowing out his shoulder.  He finished the season and they would have kept him on the team for at least another year or two, but by then he knew that he wanted to end his athletic career on his own terms.  And look where he is now.  He leads his own team and would be up for promotion any time he likes.”  Alan kept watching the game for a moment.  “It’s not where he thought he’d end up, but you know, he and I have talked about that.  He’s a lot happier where he is, even though he wouldn’t have been able to see that when he was still trying to make it into the majors.”

Ian had the sneaking suspicion that Alan wasn’t actually talking about Don, and he felt a little resentment toward the older man.  He wasn’t a kid, he didn’t need anyone pretending to be a parent, and especially not a father.  He sighed, guilt settling in when he reminded himself that he was sitting in the man’s armchair, recovering in the man’s – well, his son’s – home, very generously offered.  His resentment was probably the pain talking.  He reached out and took a bite out of one of the sandwiches.

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“Hey, Charlie!”  David’s face broke into a grin.  “I didn’t know you were coming to the office today.  How’s Ian?”

“Recovering.”  Charlie smiled.  “I just wanted to see if I could ask you about some of these statements from the case file—“

“Ah, Charlie, can it wait?  We’ve got suspects that we picked up from location two and location three in the interview rooms, and Don wants me and Colby to lean on one of the tougher ones, see if we can get him to talk to us.”

“Well, it’s important, you see, I think I’ve identified a discrepancy in the uh, the statements which I think will only be straightened out if I can talk to everyone who was at the scene.”  Charlie followed David into the break room.

“Charlie.”  David looked at him seriously.  “You know that you’re not going to be interviewing those suspects, right?”

“Not the suspects!”  Charlie said hurriedly.  “I mean talk to the agents.  You guys and the DEA agents, I’ll need to talk to them before the case is closed.”

“Did Don ask you to work on this?” 

Charlie brushed that aside.  “As I said, I’ve found a discrepancy that I need to follow up on.  I can wait here while you interview the other suspect.”

“Charlie…look, I don’t know exactly what you’re going through right now, but I know what it feels like to want answers after someone you care about gets hurt.”  David’s face was sympathetic.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie tried to calm himself.  He was short on sleep, having gotten up well before dawn to work through the case file materials in the garage before having to go to CalSci to teach his class.  He was also short on patience.  “David, there’s something here and I need to find it.  And I was hoping that after Posdner, you might be a little less inclined to dismiss this out of hand.”

David grimaced.  “I’m sorry, Charlie.  I can take a few minutes before the interview.  Let me call Colby in here, too.”  He scanned the bullpen, made eye contact with his partner through the glass walls of the break room, and beckoned him in.

“What’s up, David?  Charlie.”  Colby nodded as he entered the room.

Charlie sat at one of the tables, pulling the case file out of his bag.  David and Colby sat, too, waiting for the mathematician to find the papers he was looking for.

“Okay, here it is.  I’ve been reviewing all of the statements that you and the DEA agents made after visiting the first location.  These are generally in agreement with each other about what happened and when, but this—“  Charlie turned the paper around so that David and Colby could read.  “This is Ian’s statement, I was there when you guys interviewed him at the hospital and took it down.  Ian mentioned hearing a gunshot before…before he was shot.”

“So?”  Colby waited for Charlie to make his point.

“So that gunshot isn’t mentioned in all of the statements here.  Colby, you included it in yours, but David, you didn’t.  Neither did Nikki, Wilcox, Cruz, Brady, or Owens.  Only you, Don, and Ian document hearing this gunshot at this time in your statements.”

“I don’t remember hearing it,” David frowned.  “But Charlie, you’ve got to realize that we were all focused on bringing in our assigned suspects at the time.  Things happen fast in the field, sometimes you just don’t have the time to notice everything going on.” 

“Oh, yes, I realize that,” Charlie said reassuringly.  He didn’t want David or Colby to think that he was blaming them for an inconsistency.  “I understand the factors involved, but it’s not necessarily the absence of that first shot from the statements that stands out to me.  It’s the timing.”

“What do you mean?”  David frowned.

“Well, look,” Charlie dug through the case file and pulled out three more sheets of paper.  “These are the ballistics reports for all the shots fired at the scene.  These for Ian,” Charlie swallowed.  “And these for the shots that killed the suspect.  Four shots, right?”

Colby and David nodded slowly.  “So…who fired that extra shot?”  Colby asked.

Charlie pursed his lips.  Colby got the impression that there was something going unsaid, which was unusual when Charlie had a theory.  “It’s a discrepancy, and I think it’s important.  David, are you sure you don’t remember hearing anything before Ian was shot?”

David shook his head.  “Sorry, Charlie, I don’t.”

“Okay.”  Charlie rubbed his face tiredly.  “Okay.  Thanks for your help, I’ll let you know what I find out after talking to everyone else.”

“Sure, Charlie.”  Colby clapped his hand on Charlie’s shoulder.  “And listen, if you need to talk about anything, you know where to find me.”

Charlie smiled.  “Thanks, Colby.  I’ll remember that.”

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It was late afternoon before Charlie thought to check the time.  He relaxed a little when he saw that he had no missed messages or calls from Ian or his father – when he’d left the house that morning he’d laid his sleeping boyfriend’s hand over his cell phone and a note with instructions to call him if he needed anything.  Larry and Amita had been great, taking some of his classes at the beginning of the week when Charlie refused to leave the hospital.  He knew they would be willing to cover for him again if Ian needed him.  He dropped his cell phone back in his jacket pocket, which he’d draped on the back of his chair.

Charlie started to gather the case materials that he’d spread out over the break room table.  Nikki had tried to be helpful but her answer was the same as David’s – she hadn’t heard the gunshot, either.  And that was consistent, Charlie thought.  There could be artifacts in the terrain that accounted for some acoustical variation in the area, though without seeing it for himself he couldn’t be sure. 

He looked up as people entered the break room, and tensed slightly when he recognized Owens and Brady.  They both looked surprised and not exactly pleased to see him.

“I didn’t know we had any more math problems that needed solving,” Brady said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. 

“It’s more of a logic problem, actually,” Charlie said coolly, fumbling with the papers.

“Yeah?  And what is that?”  Brady turned, leaning back on the counter.  Owens wasn’t saying anything, instead focusing on the file he held in his hands.

“It has to do with the timing of gunshots.”  Charlie met Brady’s gaze levelly.  “Some of these statements don’t agree and I’m trying to figure out why.”

Brady scoffed.  “That happens a lot, not that you’d know.  It can be chaotic out there in the field, putting your life on the line to catch criminals while guys who sit at nice, safe desks try to second-guess you.” 

“Still, most agents are trained to recognize a gunshot when they hear one.”  Charlie noted.  “Did either of you hear a gunshot before Ia—before Agent Edgerton was shot?”

Owens looked up at that, then over at Brady.  Brady stood up straight, approaching until he was standing right next to Charlie, forcing the smaller man to twist in his seat and crane his neck to continue looking him in the eye.  Suddenly, Brady reached out a hand and tugged at the back of Charlie’s shirt.

Charlie slapped his hand away, shocked.  “What are you—“

“Just wanted to see if you were pitching or catching,” Brady smirked, his eyes cold.  “Not that it was hard to tell anyways.”

Charlie’s hand flew to the mark Ian had left on his shoulder, a surge of anger flooding him instantly.  The words were out before he could stop them, exactly how he would have replied to such a thing at one of the faculty mixers.  “No need for jealousy, sweetheart.” 

 _“What the fuck did you just say to me.”_   Brady’s face was suddenly inches away, his hands gripping the table and the back of the chair.  Charlie did not flinch back.

“Hey!”  Don strode into the room, his dark eyes snapping with anger.  “What’s going on?  Is there a problem?”

Brady continued to stare into Charlie’s eyes for a moment before straightening up.  “No problem.  There’s no problem here, right kiddo?  Just having a conversation.”

Charlie stood abruptly, gathering the case file in an untidy mess and shoving it into his bag.  He snatched his jacket from the back of the chair and pushed past Don, heading for the elevators.  He ignored his brother’s startled exclamation, slamming his hand on the elevator call button and breathing hard from residual anger and adrenaline.

Don caught up with him just as he stepped into the elevator.  “Charlie!  Hey, what the hell was that?”  When Charlie didn’t answer, Don joined him as the doors began to close.  “What’s going on?”

Charlie fiddled with the strap of his bag.  “I’m not ready to tell you yet.”

Don’s brow furrowed in concern.  “You mean about what happened just now?  Because it looked like you were just about ready to square up to the guy.”

“That was barely anything, he’s a bully.  Anyone can see that.  But I’m starting to get an idea of…sorry, no, there’s nothing I can prove.  I’m not going to say anything until I can.”

“You can tell me anything, Charlie.”

“I know.”  Charlie looked up and tried for a smile.  “But this isn’t me telling my big brother, this is a consultant telling the lead agent on a case.  I can’t do that yet.”

The elevator dinged, having reached the parking level.  “I have to go, but I’ll be back in tomorrow.  Say hi to Robin for me.”  Charlie headed out toward his car without a backward glance, leaving Don standing alone in astonishment.


	19. Chapter 19

Alan poked his head out of the kitchen door.  “Charlie, come in here and help me with the dishes.”

Charlie reluctantly extricated himself from the sofa next to Ian, who had dozed off when they started watching a late night talk show.  He stretched his arms behind his back and made his way to the kitchen, picking up a dish towel and accepting a dripping bowl from his father.

“How are you holding up?”  Alan asked.  His tone was conversational, but Charlie could hear a note of concern. 

“I’m doing all right, I think,” Charlie said. 

“Yes, you are, aren’t you.”  Alan turned and looked down at his son.  “I have to say, Charlie, that I’ve been really…you’re doing a great job taking care of Ian.”

“You’ve been a big part of that, too.”  Charlie absently stacked some of the dried dishes in the cupboard.  “I couldn’t do it without you.”

“I’m happy to do what I can, Charlie.  But you…you’ve been very…present.  I haven’t had to pry you out of the garage once.”

“I—I promised Don, and I promised myself, years ago, that I wouldn’t…”  Charlie swallowed, his throat suddenly tight.  “That I wouldn’t do to anyone else what I did to Mom.  And Ian…I could never do that to Ian.”  Charlie almost dropped the drinking glass he was drying as he suddenly had to grip the edge of the counter, squeezing his eyes shut as a wave of remembered grief and guilt washed over him and tangled with the worry and hollow dread that he’d felt when he wasn’t sure whether Ian would live or die.

Alan hurriedly shook his hands mostly dry and pulled his youngest son into a hug.  “Hey, hey, boychik, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…  I was just trying to say how proud I am of you.”  He felt Charlie shudder in his arms.  “I mean it.  I know that I’ve pushed you in the past to grow up, to take responsibility.  And you have, you really have.  I’m just sorry that I sometimes forgot how _fast_ you were expected to grow up, in so many ways, when you were still just a young thing.  I’m sorry, Charlie.  You’re doing well, that’s all I wanted to say.  Look, your shirt’s all wet.”

Charlie sniffed and chuckled and let go of his father.  “It’s all right, Dad.  I’m okay.”

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The first daylight was threatening to creep over the windowsill when Charlie slipped out of bed and padded down the hallway to the bathroom to start getting ready for the day.  Ian was still asleep when he returned to grab some clothes, and he dressed as quietly as he could.  He scribbled a note on the pad he always kept next to the bed in case the numbers in his head woke him up – usually the only way to clear them out was to write them down.

Charlie was slipping the note under Ian’s hand, just as he had the previous morning, when the hand suddenly moved of its own accord and snagged his wrist, pulling him onto the bed.  Ian hadn’t even opened his eyes.  “You’re up early.”

Charlie couldn’t help but smile.  “Up early or up late, depending on how you look at it.”

Ian tugged him closer, sliding his arm around Charlie’s waist.  “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”  Charlie snuggled down in spite of himself.  He knew that he needed to get going, but just now it was hard to muster up the motivation to leave the bed.

“You don’t have class this morning, where are you off to?”  Ian turned his head, tucking Charlie’s curls under his chin.

“The FBI office.”

They laid together in silence for a few minutes.  “This wasn’t your fault, babe.  I don’t like seeing you take on more stress and getting less sleep in pursuit of something that’s not really there.  The guy’s dead, Charlie.  The case is being wrapped up as we speak.  It’s over.”

Charlie stiffened.  “None of you would have been out there if I hadn’t figured out the maps.  And you.  You wouldn’t have even been on this case if it weren’t for me, you put in the assignment request because you knew I wanted you to stay for as long as you could.  I should have told Don to shove it, I should have driven to the office on my own, I should have—“

“That was _my_ decision, Charlie.  If anything that was my fault, don’t take this on yourself.”

“And it’s not over,” Charlie said stubbornly.  “There’s something to this and I’m going to find it.”

Ian gave him a squeeze.  “At least stay in bed with me.  It can wait a couple of hours.  Please, babe?”

It was a losing battle.  Charlie threw an arm across Ian’s waist and sighed, closing his eyes.  He fell asleep almost immediately.

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“Excuse me, Agent Wilcox?”

The DEA agent looked up.  “Hi, Dr. Eppes.”

“It’s just Charlie, please.”  Charlie offered a hesitant smile.

“Then it’s just Steve.  What can I help you with?”

“If you’ve got a few minutes, I wanted to ask you about your statement from the first location.  Some of the statements report hearing a gunshot before the two that struck Agent Edgerton.  Some of them don’t.  Can I ask you what you remember?”  Charlie sat in the chair next to the workstation that Wilcox was using.

“Sure thing.  Do you have a sketch of the location in that case file?”

“Yes.”  Charlie hurriedly shuffled through the file.  “Right here.”

“Okay, great.  Now, I was with Sofia here, approaching our suspect from this direction.”  Wilcox pointed. 

“That’s on the same side that Nikki and David were,” Charlie noted.

Wilcox nodded.  “And I don’t remember hearing a shot, but Sofia and I were the first to move in, and then we were backing up Sinclair and Betancourt, since their guy tried to bolt.”

“All right, Agent—Steve.  I appreciate you being willing to talk.”  Charlie scribbled in his notebook.

The DEA agent regarded him for a moment.  “How is Agent Edgerton?”

Charlie looked up in surprise.  “He’s…recovering.  Thanks for asking.”

“You’ve got a copy of all of the case materials?”  Wilcox nodded to Charlie’s file.

“As far as I know.  Why?”  Charlie frowned slightly.

“Because I get the sense that you haven’t seen the video.”

Charlie’s head jerked up from his notebook.  “Sorry, there’s video?!” 

“It’s an old habit from when I worked in evidence collection.  I filmed the location after the scene was secure, just as extra documentation of where we found everything.  I can get you a copy if you want.”

“Steve, that would be extremely helpful, thank you!”  Charlie flipped through his notebook.  “Am I right in thinking that the first location has been cleared?  It’s not an active scene any more, is it?”

Wilcox shook his head.  “No, Forest Service has actually gone in with our teams and removed all of the plants from all three locations.  There’s nothing left, and we’ve rounded up the cartel’s relief shifts.  Those locations have been released.”

“So it wouldn’t be a problem for me to go up there?”

“Shouldn’t be…”  Wilcox said.  “But I’m not sure that we can spare anyone show you.”

“That’s fine.”  Charlie flashed another smile.  “I go hiking in the Angeles all the time, I think I can find my way around.”


	20. Chapter 20

_Out figuring the angels, location 1.  Have cell, probably not coverage.  Back afternoon-ish.  – C_

Ian read the note again for what was probably the tenth time in the last hour, then hit the call button to re-dial Charlie’s cell number.  Again it went straight to voicemail, and it was just after six in the evening.  Maybe not quite time to get _really_ worried, not if Charlie was on his way back, but Ian had been unable to stop himself from alternating between checking his phone and looking out the front window for a couple of hours now.  He was pacing the living room like a caged carnivore, and he knew that he was driving Alan crazy.

It was time to change tactics.  Ian scrolled down to Don’s contact info and pressed call.  At least this time he could hear ringing, and then it was answered.  “Eppes.”

“Don, have you heard from Charlie today?”  Ian asked, trying for calm.

“Yeah, he texted me this morning to let me know he was heading up the Angeles to look at that first location, why?”  Don sounded a little distracted, like he was working on something else.  He was probably still at the office.  More overtime.

“Not since then?”

“No, is he not back yet?”  Don’s tone was sharper now, fully focused on the conversation. 

“No, he’s not.  And when I call his cell it goes straight to voicemail.  If he were on his way back he should have service, shouldn’t he?”

“Yeah.  I’m going to have Matt try a trace on his cell.”  Ian heard some shuffling and muted voices in the background. 

“Don, are you there?”  Ian demanded.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”

“I’m calling a cab and coming into the office, right now.  I think Alan should stay here in case Charlie turns up.” 

“Ian…you should really stay at the house, too.  I’m not sure that you’re in any shape to—“

“Twenty minutes,” Ian snapped, and ended the call.  He opened up an app on his phone and made a request for a rideshare car.

“Ian?”  The sniper turned to see Alan, drying his hands with a dish towel.  “Is there something going on with Charlie?”

Ian had no idea what to say.  “We’re working on it, Alan.  I’m heading in to the office to help Don, and we need you to stay here and let us know i—when Charlie shows up.”

“How worried should I be?”

“I don’t know,” Ian admitted.  “All I can tell you is how worried _I_ am, and I’m not even sure if I have reason to be, yet.  It’s just a feeling.”

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Don looked up from his desk when he heard the elevator ding, and saw Ian get out and head straight towards him.  The sniper was actually looking okay, albeit grim.  He definitely looked better than he had when Don had last seen him. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be wearing a sling?”

“I’m fine,” Ian said tersely. 

Don shrugged.  “If Charlie catches you like that it’s all on you.”

“We’ll have to find him first.  Where are we with that?”

“Matt didn’t have any luck with the trace.  I’ve got Colby and Liz checking with highway patrol for any accident reports that may involve the Prius.  David’s waiting to hear back from Forest Service – he asked them to drive up to check for any signs of him, but that’s probably going to take a while.”  Don rubbed his face.  “You want some coffee?”

Ian checked his phone.  No calls, no texts.  “God yes, Alan’s been trying to get me to cut back.”

Don led the way to the break room and busied himself pouring two cups of coffee.  “He’s probably fine, he’s always going hiking by himself.  And you know that he’s not so careful about keeping his phone charged.”

“Probably fine,” Ian repeated, sipping his coffee.

Out in the bullpen, Owens sidled up to Liz’s desk.  “Hey, Warner, you got a minute?”

Liz held up a finger in a “hold on” gesture, jotting down some notes from her phone call to highway patrol.  “What is it, Greg?  Don’s asked me to follow up on any leads that might involve Charlie’s car.”

“Can we talk in private?  I think it could be important.”

“I’ve got nothing here anyway,” Liz sighed.  “We can go into one of the interview rooms, just make it quick.”

The DEA agent seemed reluctant to speak first when they sat down opposite each other, however.  Liz watched Owens fidget for a moment, trying not to let her growing impatience show itself on her face. 

“I think Charlie might be in trouble,” Owens said, not meeting her eyes.

Liz sharpened her focus.  Owens knew that Don had his team trying to locate Charlie, so this wasn’t just any general concern.  Something specific was prompting him to talk, and Liz suddenly felt that she should tread carefully here.  She also felt strongly that Don needed to hear whatever Owens had to say.  She eased her phone out of her pocket.  “What makes you say that, Greg?”

In the breakroom, Don felt his phone buzz in his pocket.  It was Liz – why would Liz be calling him on his cell when they were both in the office?  Wasn’t she at her desk?  Don put the phone up to his ear.  “Eppes.”

At first Don wasn’t sure that Liz was there, but he could hear her voice.  And someone else’s voice saying “—Charlie’s been poking around the case, you know, and getting on people’s nerves.  If you ask me he should have been done with the case after doing the map thing but I guess being the little brother of the boss means he gets special privilege to hang out in the FBI offices, working on whatever he wants and wasting the time of actual agents.”

Don straightened abruptly, exiting the break room and scanning the office.  The blinds to the interview rooms were open, and he could see Liz and Owens sitting and talking in one of them.  Don turned to Ian, jerking his head in a silent command for the sniper to follow him.  The two agents slipped into the observation room, and Don pressed a button on the control panel so that they could both listen in.  Ian started the recording software on the observation computer.

“…and he’s a member of the team,” Liz was saying mildly.  “He’s here pretty often.”

“A member of the team?  Come on, Liz, he’s a consultant, not an agent.”  Owens scoffed, but his tone was subdued.

“You said you think Charlie is in trouble,” Liz reminded him.  “You haven’t said exactly why, though.”

Owens was silent again.  “I haven’t been able to get a hold of my partner.”

“You mean Brady?”

Nodding miserably, Owens reached out and grasped one of Liz’s hands in both of his.  “He’s not a bad guy, Liz.  He’s a good agent, he’s good at what he does.  Sometimes he just gets fixated on stuff.  Can’t let it go.  And with Charlie poking around and asking all of those damn questions…”

Liz waited.  Behind the one-way mirror, Ian and Don tensed.

“What, Greg?  What is it?”

“He was just venting to me yesterday, you know?  He had to blow off some steam, except that I don’t know where he is…and if they don’t know where Charlie is…”

“Greg.  What did Brady say?”  Liz was only just able to keep her voice calm.

“He said…”  Owens swallowed, looking at Liz desperately, as if begging her to understand.  “He said that Charlie had better stop asking questions, because he wasn’t about to let some little Jew fag ruin his career.”

Ian didn’t even remember moving.  He didn’t hear Don shout after him, he didn’t feel Liz trying to pull him back when he stormed into the interview room.  He did remember seizing Owens by the throat.  Even using his left hand, his grip was like iron.  He shoved the DEA agent up against the glass wall, making a racket as the blinds spilled away and clattered against each other.  Ian was snarling, unable to get out any words. 

There was shouting and then strong hands gripped his left arm and circled around his waist, dragging him away from Owens as the man choked and gasped for air.  Don got in Ian’s face.  “Back off, Edgerton!”

Don turned to Owens.  “Take a seat, agent, and start talking.  Right now.  What possible reason would Brady have to think that Charlie would ruin his career?”

Owens sat, massaging his throat and glaring up at him.  “Forget it, man, I—“

Don slammed his hand down on the table, making everyone in the room jump, including Colby and David, who were still holding Ian back.  “I said start fucking talking, Owens!  My brother is out there and if I find out that your partner went anywhere _near_ him I will slap cuffs on you myself.”

“Do it, Greg,” Liz said, finally feeling free to show her disgust.  “What kind of damage could Charlie do to Brady’s career?”

Owens stared at them, looking as though he was just now realizing the amount of trouble he was potentially facing.  He licked his lips nervously.  “I want—“ His voice rasped, and he tried again.  “I want it on the record that I came to you guys, and that I cooperated.  Right?  On the record.”

Don gave a single, short nod, his lips pressed tightly together.

“The day we made arrests at that first location.”  Owens’ eyes flicked toward Ian and then back to Don.  “Brady shot that suspect.  Killed him.”

Don let the silence build.  Every one of his instincts were screaming at him to just beat on Owen until he said whatever he had to say – if Charlie’s life was on the line, time was of the essence.  But his experience told him that, as satisfying as that would be, it would only waste time.

Owens broke.  “Brady did kill that guy.  But he killed him before Edgerton was shot.”

“What?”  Liz was shocked.  “Greg, what?”

“Brady shot the guy when he pointed his weapon at us.  When we went to secure him and his weapon, Brady picked up the guy’s gun and went towards Edgerton’s position.  He shot Edgerton with the suspect’s gun.  And after that, he came back and fired his service weapon a second time, into the suspect’s body.”

“Four shots.”  Colby’s voice was unsteady.  “There wasn’t an extra shot.  Two shots for Ian, two shots for the suspect.  Charlie…the timing…Charlie was right.”

“Brady knew ballistics wouldn’t show anything incriminating – they’d be consistent with his statement.  Fingerprints wouldn’t mean anything, Brady had to secure the suspect’s weapon.  The trees were too thick, we were all too spread out for anyone to have a clear view of what happened.”  Owens gritted his teeth.  “Except me.  And I’m his partner.  Charlie was the only one who was asking questions.”

Colby wasn’t holding Ian back anymore, he was holding the sniper up.  Ian seemed to be completely blindsided by Owens’ story, to the point where he was forgetting how to keep his feet under him.

David stepped back into the room, hanging up a call he’d received on his cell.  “Don.”  David’s tone was grave.  “I just got off the phone with Forest Service.  They sent a ranger up to that first location and they’ve found Charlie’s car but no sign of Charlie.  The ranger is waiting for back-up to start organizing a real search.”

 _“Fuck!”_   Ian spat.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”  He pushed away from Colby and started to pace the room.

“But why?”  Liz was stunned.  “Greg, why would Brady do that?”

“I told you,” Owens said, looking down at the floor.  “He gets fixated.  More specific than that, you’ll have to ask him.”

“If there’s enough left of him to ask,” Ian growled.  “Don, I’m going up there.”


	21. Chapter 21

_8 hours earlier_

Charlie was puffing slightly by the time he’d hiked up from his car to where the pot farm used to be.  He took a minute to catch his breath and sip some water, looking around at the places where the earth had been disturbed by the removal of the marijuana plants.  Well, this was as good a spot as any to get started.  He shrugged off his backpack and pulled out his notebook, the case file, and a bundle of fluorescent orange marking flags.  Finally, he took out his cell phone and brought up the video that Wilcox had sent him.

It was a slow and difficult process, working from the layouts and the video, but Charlie was able to start marking the positions of the major elements of the crime scene.  He planted flags as he went, worrying over how precisely he was able to mark the important locations just by matching the details in the video to what he was seeing in the terrain.  This had to work, because if it didn’t he wasn’t sure how else he would be able to confirm his suspicions.

He proceeded according to the video, marking the location of the tents that the suspects had been using, their supply containers, the camp fire.  He braced himself before following the footage to the area where Wilcox had documented the body of the suspect Brady had shot, not knowing whether there would be any traces of blood. 

There weren’t.  Of course there weren’t, Charlie chided himself.  It had been more than a week since that day, and the scene had been thoroughly processed.  And there had been two or three spring storms that had rolled through the mountains.  Anything like that would have long been washed away. 

Moving on from there, Charlie finally reached what he thought was the small rocky outcrop where Ian had taken position to cover the other agents.  There was blood in the video.  A lot of it.  Charlie swallowed hard, suddenly doubly glad for the recent weather.  He planted another flag, then reached into his backpack and pulled out one of Ian’s spare rifle scopes.  In terms of elevation, this was the highest point of interest.  All of the other flags were downhill and spread out. 

Charlie got down and did his best to imitate a sniper’s pose, holding the scope up to his eye and scanning the terrain below for flags.  He saw the flags marking the camp site, and where he thought David and Nikki had apprehended their suspect, but none of the other flags he had planted, not even the one which marked the location of the dead suspect’s body.  There was no line of sight. 

_There was no line of sight._

And Ian had been hit from the side.  The angle of the shots meant that the shooter’s position would have been well away and uphill from the dead suspect’s location.  Charlie sat up and opened his notebook, rifling through its pages until he got to the diagram he’d sketched.  He pulled out the small, flat ruler he used as a bookmark and carefully drew the angles from Ian’s position to the body and then to the shooter’s most likely location, adding estimates of elevation differences.  At the shooter’s location, he wrote the name “Brady” and circled it until the lead of his mechanical pencil snapped.  His heart was racing.  Would this be enough to take to Don?  He wasn’t sure it would be enough to bring charges, but if he could buy some time…  Maybe he, Larry, and Amita could come back up here with some acoustic analysis equipment to try to explain why the first gunshot hadn’t been audible closer to the camp site.  He flipped through the notebook until he found a blank page, then started to scribble down some sound wave expressions, more as a way to calm himself down than any serious analysis.

Charlie’s stomach growled, and he checked his phone for the time.  It was early afternoon, which meant that it had been a long time since he’d eaten anything, and it was time to start heading back.  He rummaged around his backpack for a granola bar and the pack of beef jerky he’d brought.  The sun was out, but it was cool this high up in the mountains.  Charlie breathed in the fresh air and thought of Ian, wishing that the two of them could have enjoyed a hike like this together instead of…well, instead of what had happened.

His lunch finished, he re-packed everything but his notebook, considering whether or not to remove the flags he’d planted.  He decided not to – hopefully he would be able to convince Don to come back with him so that he could explain his findings better.  He stood up and carefully made his way downhill – there wasn’t really a trail to follow, he had just scrambled up earlier. 

The sound of a twig snapping caused Charlie to glance around.  By now he was in the trees, so he couldn’t see far.  He turned to look behind him, mostly just to reassure himself that he was alone.  Which is why he didn’t see the blow when it came.  Something hit him hard across the shoulders and he went down, just able to break his fall with one forearm, the other hand still clutching his notebook.

“Whatcha doing up here, doc?” 

Charlie rolled to the side, trying to get his feet under him.  Brady hefted the tree branch he was carrying.  “I bet you’re wishing you were back at your nice, safe desk right now, huh?”  He swung the branch around to Charlie’s head, who threw up his arm to block it, crying out when the force of the blow was enough to put him down again.  “You could have been, you know,” Brady said, reaching down and hauling Charlie upright by the front of his fleece jacket.  “All you had to do was leave it alone and stop asking questions.”  He drove a fist into Charlie’s stomach, causing the smaller man to double over and gasp for air.  “But you didn’t do that did you?  No, you thought that you could just ruin my life, my career, take me out of the game while you fuck around where you have no right to be.”

Charlie knew that he didn’t stand a chance against Brady.  He wasn’t a fighter, and Brady was built like Colby and easily eight inches taller than Charlie.  He tried to think of what he’d learned in the FBI training, and the few self-defense moves that Megan had told him were good to use against bigger opponents.  But his mind was almost totally blank, taken by surprise and clouded with pain.  He did the only thing he could think of, the thing that Don had been telling him since he was eight years old.

He drove his knee into Brady’s groin as hard as he could, and took off running.  He could hear the DEA agent howling and cursing behind him, but he didn’t dare look.  Charlie knew with absolute certainty that if he didn’t get away now, then he wasn’t going to.  He almost lost his footing a few times, and he wasn’t sure that he was heading in the right direction – all he could think was that he needed to keep going downhill.  Downhill was where his car was.  If he could get to the car…

 _Downhill.  Downhill.  Downhill._   A rock turned when he put his foot down and he fell forward and rolled, coming to a stop against a tree with a hard thump that knocked the wind out of him.  He could hear Brady crashing after him, getting closer, and he knew that he’d lost whatever ground he’d gained. 

Charlie accepted it, suddenly feeling calm.  He wasn’t getting out of here alive.  This meant he needed to be productive with whatever time he had left.  He looked at his notebook, then scraped away the pine needles on the ground, creating a shallow hole.  He covered up the notebook, making sure it was out of sight but not bothering to try to hide the fact that the forest floor cover had been disturbed. 

Charlie pushed himself to his feet, his stomach roiling with the effort, and hobbled a little further downhill before Brady caught up with him.  A vicious kick to the back of his knee sent him sprawling, rocks and dirt grinding into the skin of his palms when he tried to catch himself.

“You little fucker!”  Brady spat, slowing to catch his breath.  “You little pansy-ass piece of shit!”  He reached down again, grabbing Charlie by the hair this time.  Charlie screamed in pain, screwing his eyes shut.

“You can’t cover this one up, Brady,” Charlie panted.  He tried to get a grip on Brady’s wrist to keep him from pulling his hair out.  “The FBI knows I’m up here.”

“You wanna bet, you fucking fairy?”  Brady smirked.  “I’m home sick today, my partner’s covering for me.  And you’re the genius who went out on his own and took a nasty fall.  Too bad, but you know how dangerous it is to go hiking alone.  Tragic accident.  Believe me, kid, I know what I’m doing.”

Charlie’s mind was racing.  He’d wondered why Brady hadn’t just shot him, and now he knew.  Brady truly thought he could make this look like an accident, and the trouble was that Charlie _did_ believe him.  What else was there for him to do?  How could he make sure to point Don and Ian in the right direction when he wouldn’t be around to tell them anything?  The thought of Ian brought with it a sharp pang of regret.

Brady dragged the mathematician upright and again seized the front of his jacket, pulling him along like he weighed nothing and stopping at the edge of a rocky drop off.  “It was a spur of the moment thing, you know,” he said, almost as if he were confiding in Charlie.  “You see an opportunity, you take your shot.  I was in a hurry, or I would have killed your _boyfriend_ outright.  I was aiming for his head.”

Charlie’s hand shot up, his fingernails digging in to Brady’s face while he simultaneously twisted to sink his teeth into the wrist of the hand gripping his jacket.  Brady shook him off easily, and Charlie staggered, still trying to stay on his feet – but there was nowhere to go.  He was right up against the brink of the drop off, the sudden realization of the height making him dizzy.  He turned back just in time to catch Brady’s foot in his chest, the agent connecting with a shoving kick that sent him tumbling over the edge.


	22. Chapter 22

The search had been underway for hours.  Ian thought that it was probably well past midnight by now.  The forest rangers had distributed flashlights and short range two-way radios to the search teams and FBI agents who were part of it.  Two certified teams of search and rescue handlers and dogs had just arrived and were being given assignments. 

Ian forced himself to choke down an energy bar.  He was no fan of the taste of them even under normal circumstances, but now it tasted like sawdust and sat heavy in his stomach.  He needed the food though, so that he could take a pill to ease the ache in his arm.  He wasn’t going to leave until he found Charlie, and there was no way he was going to let Don sideline him.

“Eppes, this is Sinclair.”  David’s voice crackled over Don’s radio.  Don picked it up.  “This is Eppes, go ahead.”

“Colby and I found something, I think you should get one of the dog teams over here.” 

Don made the request, and both he and Ian hurried to accompany the young woman handling what looked like a collie mix.  The dog was eager and alert to his handler, waiting to be able to do his job.  Both the dog and the woman were wearing bright yellow reflective vests.  They approached the beams of Colby and David’s flashlights, periodically sweeping their surroundings for any signs of Charlie. 

“Look at this,” Colby said, pointing to something on the ground.  It was a small orange flag, its thin metal support bent down into the soil as though someone had stepped on it.  “We’ve found a couple of these.”

“Are they left over from evidence recovery?”  Don asked.  “Can’t see Forest Service approving of that after the scene had been cleared.”

“I think Charlie was using them to orient himself to the scene,” David explained.  “He had a lot of questions about who was where.” 

“There’s sign here,” Ian said, pushing past Colby and crouching to get a closer look at the ground.  “It’s harder to tell with it being so dark, but we may be looking at two sets of footprints.”

Don turned to the dog handler.  “Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Sierra,” the young woman supplied.  “And this is Cheeto.”  The dog looked up at her at the sound of his name, ears perked.

“Sierra, good to meet you.  How do you suggest proceeding from here?  I mean, does he need a specific scent to go from?  I don’t think we have anything of Charlie’s with us, but we can head back down and break into his car.”

“No, Cheeto’s trained to air scent, meaning that he’s looking for humans in general, not a trail or a specific scent.  I don’t want to do anything that might, you know, mess up any evidence or whatever.  But I think that I should send Cheeto ahead of us, he’ll let us know when he finds something.”

Don nodded.  “Sounds good to me.  Let him do his thing.”

Sierra crouched down, ruffling the fur on the dog’s neck and whispering excitedly to him.  Cheeto began to bounce in place a little, just waiting for the word.  Finally, Sierra unclipped the leash from Cheeto’s harness.  “Cheeto, go find!”  With a yip the dog was off into the darkness. 

“We don’t have to stay put,” Sierra said, straightening.  “He’ll be able to find us again as long as we don’t move too fast.”

“Great.  Ian?  Can you follow this?”  Don turned to the sniper.

“Yeah, it looks as though these prints lead down here.”  Ian led the group through the trees.  Occasionally they heard Cheeto rustling around just outside of the reach of the flashlights, checking in with his handler before going back out to search. 

“Hold up.”  Ian stopped, circling a tree with his flashlight.  “Someone give me a light, here.”

David stood behind Ian as the sniper set down his flashlight so that he could use his left hand to smooth away a pile of pine needles and leaf litter.  There was something underneath. 

“This is…”  Ian swallowed.  “This is Charlie’s notebook.  His notebook.  He was here…”

Don picked it up, leafing through the pages awkwardly while holding his flashlight.  “Here, look.”  He held the notebook out so the others could see.  There was Charlie’s diagram of the scene.  Brady’s name was circled multiple times.

“Don.”  Ian pushed down the wave of nausea that suddenly washed over him.  “He didn’t drop it.  He was trying to hide it.”

“Can you pick up any trail from here?”                          

David hooked a hand under Ian’s arm to help him up, and Ian again circled the tree.  “Ground’s a little rockier here, but this—“  Ian pointed down at a divot.  “I think we’re continuing downhill.”

Cheeto came bounding towards them, giving a series of short barks.  He raced to his handler, nosed at her hand and then ran back the way he came.  “Looks like Cheeto agrees with you, agent, because I think he’s showing his recall-refind behavior.  That means he’s found someone.”

Ian’s heart began to pound in his chest.  “I’m not one to argue with an expert.  Lead the way, Sierra.”

Sierra picked her way carefully in the direction that Cheeto had gone.  Ian chafed at the slow pace, but without a real trail, rushing and stumbling around in the dark would have been counterproductive.  They could hear Cheeto barking ahead of them.  “We’re close now,” Sierra called back.  “If he’s barking and not coming back, that means he’s staying with his find until we get there.”

Don almost bumped into the handler when she suddenly stopped, and she caught him with an outstretched arm to keep him from going ahead.  “Careful there, look.”  Sierra shined her flashlight at the ground just ahead of them.  “There’s a drop here.  Does anyone see Cheeto?  It sounds like we’re right on top of him.”

It was true, the dog’s frantic barks sounded as if he were close by, but as the group swept the beams of their flashlights around, they couldn’t see any telltale gleams from Cheeto’s reflective vest.  Ian moved forward cautiously, leaning over the rocky edge and holding his flashlight out to light the ground below.  He caught a glimpse of wagging tail and the shine of silver reflective tape on yellow.  “Hey!”  He called.  “Get some more light over here!”

Don and Colby joined him, shining their lights down what looked to be a twenty-foot drop to a narrow ledge.  Cheeto had stopped barking, satisfied that his search party had caught up with him, and was now curled up next to a small, crumpled figure.

 _“Charlie!”_   Ian dropped to his knees.  “Oh my god, Charlie!”

Don was already calling for help on the radio, providing a description of the situation and requesting medical personnel as soon as possible. 

“Don…he’s not…I don’t see him moving.”  Nobody present had ever heard that broken quality in Ian’s voice before.

“How did the dog get down there?”  Colby asked, hesitating only slightly before patting Ian’s shoulder awkwardly.  “Maybe one of us can make it down to check him.”

“Not you,” Don said sharply as Ian started to rise.  “You stay here.  Colby and I are going to take a look.”

“I’ll come with you,” Sierra said.  “I can call Cheeto and we can see what path he took.”

That didn’t turn out to be necessary.  Further down the slope, there was a point where the narrow ledge holding Charlie and Cheeto angled up steeply to meet ground level.  The ledge was only about eighteen inches wide where they could reach it, but Don already had both feet on the ledge and was starting to inch his way down.

“Wait!”  Sierra took Don’s flashlight out of his hand and removed her own headlamp, settling the elastic band around the FBI agent’s head.  “You’re going to want both hands free.  Don’t worry about Cheeto, he’ll keep out of your way.”

The ledge had widened to roughly four feet by the time Don and Colby reached Charlie, and even without a headlamp Colby was able to see, with Ian and David holding their flashlights above them.  Cheeto looked up and thumped his tail against the ground as they approached, but he didn’t move, keeping his warm body pressed up against Charlie’s back.  The mathematician was lying on his side, eyes closed, curly black hair falling over his face.

Don’s fingers shook as he carefully placed them on his brother’s neck, feeling for a pulse.  Charlie’s skin was cold to the touch, and the sensation sent him into a dizzying spiral of despair before he caught a weak and thready pulse. 

“He’s—“ Don choked.  “He’s alive!  Guys, he’s alive!”  He closed his eyes, a short prayer of gratitude running through his mind before refocusing on the task at hand.  “Charlie?  Hey, buddy, can you hear me?  Come on, buddy, wake up, we’ve got you.”

Charlie stirred slightly, and Don could see his chest start to rise and fall more deeply, but he didn’t wake up.  Colby eased his way down the ledge until he was crouching down by Charlie’s legs.  He took off the small pack that he was carrying and pulled out a first aid kit.  Inside it was a tightly folded silver thermal blanket, which he shook out.  “Don, he’s cold and probably in shock.  We should try to keep him as warm as possible.”

Don nodded and reached for the blanket, he and Colby tucking it as tightly as they could around Charlie’s body.  Colby had to shift Cheeto away slightly to give them room to work, and the dog whined.  Don started to check his brother for visible signs of injury, sucking in his breath with a hiss as he felt the back of Charlie’s head, the curly hair matted with blood.  “Got a head wound.”  He gently probed the area with his fingers, relieved when he didn’t feel any signs of a skull fracture.

He continued, feeling carefully down Charlie’s back, then checking his arm.  Charlie’s hand was fisted deep in his jacket pocket, and Don tried to pull it free to check for bleeding and broken bones.  He was surprised by a low moan and weak resistance as Charlie tried to move his arm out of Don’s grip.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?  Did that hurt?  Come on, buddy, talk to me.”

Charlie’s eyes flickered open just for a moment.  “Tell Don…”

Don smoothed Charlie’s hair back.  “Charlie, it’s Don, I’m here.  It’s me.  You can tell me.”

Again just a glimpse of dark brown eyes.  “Don?”

“Yeah, buddy, I’m here.”

“Dnnn…”  Charlie’s head lolled, and he coughed slightly.  “Dnnnnaaa.”

“What?  Sorry, Charlie, I didn’t get that.”

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to force his eyes open.  But it was too bright, and his head felt heavy.  “DNA.  Tell Don.”

Don stared at him, worried.  He pulled Charlie’s hand out of his pocket, and the light from the headlamp showed the blood on the tips of his fingers and under his fingernails.  “DNA?”

Charlie sighed.  “For Don.”

“I got it buddy, I got it.  Can you tell me whose DNA?”

“Mmmmm…Brady.  S’Brady’s.” 

A white-hot rage burned through Don, and he had to let go of Charlie’s hand before he did anything that might inadvertently hurt his brother.  He could hear Colby’s voice, distantly at first, and then louder as the roaring in his ears started to fade.  “You gotta stay with me, Don, Charlie needs your help right now.”

Don took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down and focus on Charlie.  Colby was continuing his evaluation.  “Can you squeeze my fingers, Charlie?  Good, that’s good, you’re doing great.  How about with this hand?  Go ahead and squeeze.  Awesome.  Still with me, Charlie?  Do you feel my hand pushing on the bottom of your foot?  Push back if you can.  Hey, Charlie, did you hear me?  Go ahead and push with your foot.”  Colby looked up at Don in alarm, but didn’t say anything.  He moved his hand to the bottom of Charlie’s other foot.  “How about this one, Charlie?  Push back with your foot.”  Charlie only mumbled indistinctly.  He was starting to shiver, even under the thermal blanket.

Don felt dread starting to tingle all over him, and he called up to David and Ian.  “Any word on those medics?”

“Minutes away, Don,” David shouted back. 

“Hold on, Charlie,” Don murmured, stroking Charlie’s hair.  “We’ll get you out of here in no time.”


	23. Chapter 23

Ian’s coffee had grown cold in its Styrofoam cup, turning a barely tolerable beverage into a cold, bitter sludge.  He didn’t care, he’d had two cups already and that was enough to keep him pacing the waiting room.

The process of getting Charlie off the ledge and down the mountain roads to the city had been frustratingly slow, but Ian had to admit that the forest rangers and search and rescue teams had known their business – they’d set up with ropes and harnesses, making relatively quick work of a dangerous retrieval.  After that, everything had moved so fast, and all of Ian’s good intentions about thanking Sierra or any of the other rescuers had evaporated against his concern for Charlie. 

Charlie had only been semi-coherent during the ambulance ride to the hospital, periodically reminding Don about the DNA, then dropping off, then waking again asking for Ian.  The staff in the emergency room had rushed Charlie away, leaving Ian and Don to cool their heels in the waiting room where they were soon joined by Alan and Robin.

Ian was the only one up and walking around, too keyed up to sit.  Don, Robin, and Alan were huddled together in some chairs in the corner of the room, creating a zone of relative privacy away from the other people who were waiting.  They looked exhausted, especially Alan, who still had deep worry lines on his face which made him look like he’d aged ten years overnight.  No one was saying anything.

Don had ordered his team to go home and rest – they’d handed this case over to another team in the FBI office, given Don’s personal involvement, but not before notifying the DEA of what had happened, and reaching out to LAPD and putting out an APB on Luke Brady and his registered vehicle.

“Here for Charles Eppes?”              

Ian whipped around to see a stocky, short-haired woman in a white coat.  He and Alan were the first to respond, Don taking some time to help Robin to her feet.  “We’re here for Charlie.”

The physician smiled and extended her hand.  “I’m Dr. Lewis, I’ve been in charge of Charlie’s treatment.”

“I’m his father,” Alan blurted out, taking her hand.  “Don, my son, his wife Robin, and Charlie’s partner, Ian.”

“Well, I’m happy to say that considering the circumstances I have pretty good news,” said Dr. Lewis, putting on a pair of reading glasses to glance down at her clipboard.  “I know that the primary concern when he was brought in was spinal injury, but the CT scan showed no damage to the spine or spinal cord, only a cracked pelvis.  Given the time between when Charlie was injured and when he received treatment, it’s likely that his legs went numb – it’s a common symptom of pelvic fractures, and explains why he wasn’t able to respond during his initial evaluation.”

Don tried to choke back a sob and put a hand up to his eyes, and Robin rubbed his back soothingly.  Ian felt a tightness in his chest ease just a little.

“Now, the fracture in Charlie’s pelvis will require surgery to put in pins, and he’s being prepped for that right now.  Because he needs surgery anyway, we’re also going to make sure that the internal bleeding we saw in the scan is minor.  He has a concussion – nothing severe, but we will be keeping an eye on him for any complications.”  Dr. Lewis cleared her throat.  “We also saw some bruising on the right side of his rib cage, and he’s pretty banged up.  He’s going to be very sore for a while, and we expect up to a ten week recovery for the surgery.  I know that seems like a long list for good news, but he’s a very lucky man.  He was suffering from the onset of hypothermia when he was found, and…  It’s just better that he wasn’t out there all night.”

“The surgery,” Ian rasped, then swallowed to try to work up some moisture in his mouth.  “How long will he be in surgery?”

“Barring complications, only a couple of hours.  I expect that we’ll be able to let you visit him once he’s out of recovery.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Alan said, unable to keep a few tears from slipping down his cheeks.  “Thank you for taking care of him.”

Dr. Lewis smiled again.  “It’s my job.  I’ll be back out in a few hours to let you know how he’s recovering.”

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Ian sat in the chair closest to Charlie’s bed, absently running his fingers through curly dark hair while he was half-dozing.  Charlie would likely wake up soon, the nurse had said, but Ian hoped that his boyfriend would take the opportunity to catch up on a little sleep.  Alan was snoring in the most comfortable chair in the room, although that wasn’t saying much, and Don was probably on his way back from dropping Robin off at home. 

The dozing was keeping everything at bay, for now.  Ian had been feeling off-kilter ever since Owens’ impromptu statement in the FBI office.  It had put everything that Ian had been through on this case in an entirely new light, and he was struggling to re-contextualize it all.  And on top of all that, Charlie had been attacked by the same son of a bitch.  Every time Ian let himself think about how close he had come to losing Charlie, he felt like he was on the precipice of a dark abyss inside himself, and that scared him.  Ian was used to being the cause of fear in other people – he didn’t care much for the feeling, himself.

A soft murmur brought him all the way out of his doze, and he looked over at Charlie in concern.  The mathematician’s eyes were open, and they had a dreamy quality to them, as if he weren’t fully awake.  He was probably still experiencing some of the effects of the anesthesia.

Ian shifted, taking Charlie’s hand.  “Hey, Professor.”

Charlie blinked and he gave a half-smile.  “Ian.  Hey.”

“How are you feeling, babe?”

“Uh.”  Charlie thought about it, but his head was fuzzy.  “Ow,” he concluded.

Ian chuckled.  “I bet.  Can I get you anything?”

“No.  Just you.”

Ian bent down to kiss Charlie’s cheek.  “That’s doable.  Your dad’s here, sleeping.  Don will be back any minute – he needed to take Robin home so she could rest.”

“Don…”  Charlie squinted.  There was something that he was supposed to tell Don, wasn’t there?  Something that he had for Don.  He held up a hand and looked at it.  It was clean.  He tried to tug away the hand that Ian was holding.  “Did you get it?”

“Get what, Charlie?”

“The DNA.  I had DNA for you and Don, it was the only thing I could think to do,” Charlie was starting to babble.  “Hard evidence – there wasn’t anything else – please tell me you got it.”

“Charlie—“

“I couldn’t get away,” Charlie said, his eyes pleading.  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t, I knew I couldn’t, I wasn’t strong enough, and it was the only thing I could think of.  I’m sorry, I should have done more, I should have thought of something—“

The distress in Charlie’s face was too much.  Everything was too much.  Ian felt the abyss opening up again inside him, and it was cold.  He dropped Charlie’s hand and stood abruptly, turning to walk out of the room without a backward glance.  He didn’t hear Charlie frantically calling after him, he barely registered the startled look on Don’s face when he pushed past him in the hallway.  He didn’t even know where he was heading, he just knew that he had to stay away until the abyss receded.

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“Ian.”

Ian looked up to see Don, face like a thundercloud, striding towards the small table in the corner where the sniper had taken refuge in the hospital cafeteria. 

“I’m going to ask you a question, and fair warning: the wrong answer gets you punched in the face.”

Ian shrugged.  “Go ahead.”

“Are you leaving my brother?”

“What?!”  Ian looked up in shock.  “No!”

Don sat.  “You’re lucky.  That was the right answer.  So in light of knowing how much my stupid genius brother cares about you, I’m going to give you a chance to explain _why_ you just walked out on him after he woke up from surgery, the first time you really got to see each other after some bastard tried to kill him.”

Ian was silent.  Don wasn’t yet ready to wait him out, or make it easy on him.  “Because he hurt himself trying to get out of bed to go after you.  He thinks that you’re angry with him.  Dad had to call the nurse and they had to sedate him, he was so upset.  I had to hold him down while he cried and begged me to let him go, which is an experience I could have done without, so thank you for that.”  Don’s tone was biting.

Ian stood quickly.  “Is he okay?  I should—“

“Sit down, Edgerton!”  Don barked.  “You’re not going back in there until I understand why you left in the first place, and anyway he’s asleep.  He didn’t make his injuries any worse, thank god, they checked his stitches and everything was fine.  And not to lay on the guilt _too_ thick here, but we couldn’t pry him away from you pretty much the entire time you were in the hospital, so you’ve got a lot of ground to make up.”

Ian put his head in his hands.

“And by the way,” Don continued conversationally.  “This is something that I was planning to wait to bring up until you were more recovered, but there’s no time like the present.  That day in the hospital, when we weren’t sure whether you were going to make it, I asked Charlie if he should call your mother and your sister.  And he said that he wasn’t sure that they knew about him, so he asked me to have them notified through the office instead.  So, while we have this opportunity to chat, feel free to tell me why you’re keeping my little brother a secret from your family.”

Ian felt sick, and he didn’t know what to say.  He didn’t have the energy to even try to get angry with Don as a way to put him off this line of questioning.  He tried for sarcasm instead.  “Is that all?  Maybe I should write down my life story for you.”

Don just sat there, stone-faced and waiting.

“It’s not like Charlie immediately told you and Alan about us, either, you know,” Ian said defensively, but he knew that it had been different and it was unfair for him to bring it up now.  He sighed.  “Things are complicated with my mom.  My sister, Jen, well, she does know about Charlie.  She has for a while, and she’s fine with it, she wants to meet him.  I guess I just never prioritized getting the two of them together, I get to see her and the kids so rarely…  And mom, it’s just that things were so different when I was growing up.  My dad was a hard-ass, so we were glad to see the back of him when he left.  But things at home were still pretty rough, and I joined the military right out of high school.  They’re absolute bastards in their recruitment methods, you know.  Especially in our community, they make a lot of promises.  Anyway, stuff happened while I was in the service, and sorry, I’m not prepared to tell you about any of it.  And some of it is above your clearance level anyway.  Let’s just say that my mom made it very clear where she stood on same-sex relationships and Charlie doesn’t deserve that, okay?”

Don gave a slow nod.  “And what about the other thing?”

“Don, I—“  Ian swallowed and tried again.  “I almost lost him.”  His voice broke on the last syllable.  “And I’ve never had to think about what that would mean before.  I love him so much, Don.”  Ian coughed to hide the hitch in his breath.  “And this case…  You and I put ourselves on the line, and we know and accept the risks.  Like you said, sometimes things just go bad, even when you’re on top of your game.  Getting hurt in the line of duty, it’s part of the job, right?  But that’s not what this was, and I’m having a hard time dealing with it.  An _agent_ tried to kill me, Don, and I hadn’t even given him a reason.  It wasn’t even personal.  I didn’t see it coming, Charlie was the only one to even suspect something wasn’t right.  It’s fucking with my head.  And on top of all that, I’m not even sure that I have a real future as a sniper anymore.”  Ian motioned to his right arm.

Don nodded again.  “Okay.  I’m no expert, Ian, but I’ve been in the same place, where I couldn’t deal with my own shit and I ended up taking it out on the people around me, like my team.  And Charlie.  So you’re not alone here.  But the only way to fix this for yourself is to have someone talk you through it and help you sort it out.  That’s what helped me, and guess what – I still go to therapy.  Turns out that therapy is actually a good thing for people who get shot at on the regular, even though both military and law enforcement culture tell us we should be able to just tough it out.  Don’t make that mistake, and don’t put any more of that on Charlie, okay?  Get some help and work it out.  I can give you Bradford’s number, he’s former law enforcement himself and he knows how it is.  I think he does phone consultations.”

Ian let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding, and nodded. 

“I can even try to get an appointment for you with Bradford soon.  How long have they given you for medical leave?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ian said.  “I’m calling them today and extending my leave for at least ten weeks.  I’ve got a lot of time built up, and I’m taking it.  That’s what the doctor said Charlie needed for recovery, and I’m going to be here for him.”

Don’s eyes softened.  “Okay.  You ready to go back upstairs?”

Ian nodded.  “Yeah.”


	24. Chapter 24

It was Charlie’s stomach that forced him back into consciousness this time – he didn’t understand how he could possibly feel worse than when he’d first woken up, but his body seemed determined to surprise him with new and unpleasant ways to manifest pain.  Someone was holding his arm, and he made an honest effort to get his mouth working so that he could ask for what he needed, but his stomach had other ideas.  He had enough presence of mind to roll to the side, and then threw up on what he hoped was the floor and not a person.

“Oh dear,” someone said.

“It’s all right, you have no idea how often this happens in my line of work.  How are you feeling, sweetie?”

Charlie shook his head, and that was a mistake, because a wave of dizziness hit him and he flopped back with a groan.  A hand patted his shoulder.  “I’ll get you some water in just a minute.”

He risked opening his eyes, letting the world settle into focus and taking measured breaths to get his stomach under control.  A pair of concerned hazel eyes met his.  “Larry?”

“Charles, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you awake and, well, alive.  When your father called and told me what happened I had to come.”  Larry clasped his hands together nervously and sat down, neatly avoiding the pathetic puddle of vomit on the floor.  “I’m so sorry, Charles, I should have made the time to come with you when you asked—“

“Larry, no!”  Charlie said, horrified.  “Just, no, Larry.  I don’t even want to think of what might have happened if you’d been there.  It was…it was bad.  It’s better that you weren’t there.”

The nurse came back into the room, carrying a plastic mug with a straw.  She handed the mug to Charlie and then went into the bathroom, returning with some damp paper towels for him to wipe his mouth.  “Here you go.  Just give me a minute to get this cleaned up.”  She retrieved a spray bottle filled with disinfecting agent and a cloth.

Charlie noticed the wet spots on the hem of her cheerful scrub top and blushed.  “I’m sorry.”

“Happens almost every day, you’re joining an elite company of patients who have managed to throw up on me.”  The nurse smiled.  “I’m serious, we all have spare scrubs for just this reason.”  She stood up.  “All done.  Press the call button if you need anything.”

“Okay,” Charlie said uncertainly.  He looked at Larry.  “Where—?”

“Oh!”  Larry said.  “Everyone is here.  Well, not _here_ here, although there are some schools of thought which would posit that we are all everywhere and nowhere simultaneously—“

“Larry,” Charlie begged, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Right.  Your father stepped out for some coffee and food, he should be back shortly.  He let me know that Don and Ian were in the building, though I haven’t yet seen them.”

“Hey, Larry!”  Don said, grinning as he entered the room.  Ian was following closely behind him, and Charlie shrank down a little in the bed, dropping his eyes.

“Can you give us a minute?”  Ian asked.  Don nodded, and grabbed Larry before the physicist could get going on the impossibility of either giving or receiving discrete packets of time.

Ian sat down next to the bed, tentatively reaching for Charlie’s hand.  “I’m so sorry for leaving like that, Charlie, I wasn’t – I’m not – angry with you.”

Charlie glanced at him, squeezing his hand back, still uncertain.  “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?”  Ian laughed incredulously and nearly curled his other hand around the back of Charlie’s neck before he remembered about the concussion.  “Charlie, I should be asking _you_ that.  Babe, I was scared.  Honestly, I still am.  Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life, not knowing exactly where you were or what was happening.  Scared of…of how we would find you.”

“Me too,” Charlie whispered.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what, Charlie?  None of this was your fault, in fact without you we wouldn’t have had a clue about what really happened that day.”

“Then you know?”  Charlie asked urgently.  “Did you…did you find my notebook?  It’s okay if you didn’t, I think I can replicate the work I did, only…”  He rubbed his left hip, wincing.  “Only not for a while, I guess.”

“We found your notebook, and you might not remember but you told Don about the DNA evidence.  Several times.  He made sure that it was collected before you went into the ER and it’s probably in the lab right now.  And it’s not all hanging on you, Charlie.  Owens gave a…well, a kind of statement yesterday when we were looking for you, he told us what Brady did, and that he’d threatened you.”

“He did?”  Charlie frowned.  “I assumed that the longer the truth remained hidden, the less motivation he would have to say anything, especially if he might be incriminating himself.”

“I guess he grew half a conscience.  Agent Simmons’ team is handling the case now, and they’ll be the ones to work out charges.”

“And…and Brady?”

Ian shook his head.  “Nothing yet, but everyone is on the lookout for him.”

Charlie was silent for a moment, then he pulled his hand away from Ian’s.  “Babe, what –?”

It was slow going and painful, but Charlie managed to move himself over to the far edge of the bed by gripping the rail.  He patted the empty space beside him.  “Come here.”

Ian smiled and carefully settled himself on his side next to Charlie, laying a gentle arm across the mathematician’s body and pulling them closer. 

That was how Alan found them a few minutes later, heads together and both of them fast asleep.

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“I don’t see why I can’t just go home today,” Charlie argued.  It had been two days since his surgery, and he knew it was silly but the sterile hospital environment was starting to make him feel claustrophobic.  He wanted his own bed, his own clothes, his own food, and his own home.  He wanted not to have to hear people ask how he was feeling all the time.

“Dr. Lewis said tomorrow if everything looks good, that’s why.  Today is not tomorrow,” Ian said.

 _“You_ checked yourself out early,” Charlie said accusingly.

“That is because –” Ian kissed him.  “–I am a deadly sniper, and you are a mild-mannered mathematician.”  He laughed when Charlie gave him the finger.  “Seriously babe, better safe than sorry.  Give yourself some time to move around a little easier.”  Charlie grumbled something about hypocrisy and then picked up his notebook.

Charlie had been practicing with a walker in the hallways and hated it, resolving to chuck the thing in the dumpster the first chance he got.  Leaning on the walker put pressure on his bruised ribs, and aside from the crack in the left side of his pelvis, his right knee had been badly bruised.  Walking was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.  For now, at least.  But Dr. Lewis insisted that it was important for him to walk when he could, so that he could regain full mobility as he healed.  The longer he waited to walk, she said, the longer his recovery would take.

“Besides,” Don put in.  “You’re giving your statement today, remember?”

“Yeah.”  Charlie looked down and paused in his writing, fiddling with the thin hospital blanket.  “You don’t have to be there, either of you, if you have things you need to do…”

“Charlie.”  Don was giving him a quizzical look.  “You trying to get rid of us?”

Charlie thought about telling the truth, that he _was_ trying to get rid of them because he had an idea of how they’d both react to hearing the gritty details of Brady’s assault.  But pushing them out now would only increase their concern, and provide motivation to get their hands on his statement and the evidence later anyway.  He sighed.  “No, of course not.  I just feel like I’ve been taking up a lot of everyone’s time.”  _Just like always_ , he thought.


	25. Chapter 25

Agent Turner smiled reassuringly at Charlie, who was sitting up in the hospital bed doodling equations in a notebook.  Turner’s partner, Agent Collins, was sitting next to her.  Don and Ian were seated in extra chairs that had been pulled in, which made the room feel cramped.  Again Charlie wished that he was home.

“Dr. Eppes, could you—“

“Charlie.  Please.”

Turner smiled again.  “Charlie.  Could you tell us what happened, from the beginning?”

“Just from that day, or –?”

“Where would you like to start?”

“I just wasn’t sure if you wanted me to start from the beginning of my involvement with the cartel case,” Charlie clarified.  “I’ll start with that day on the mountain, I guess.”  He began to describe his reasoning for wanting to see the crime scene for himself, spending a lot of time going over his work with the little orange marking flags, and his findings regarding the angles between Ian’s position, the position of the dead suspect, and the position of the shooter.  He definitely wanted all of that on the official record.

“And what made you think that the shooter was Brady?”  Turner asked when Charlie paused.

After some hesitation, Charlie said, “If I was correct in thinking that the suspect killed at the scene was not the person who shot at Agent Edgerton, then Owens and Brady were the only ones at the scene who had the opportunity to do it while also fitting with the evidence, like the ballistics reports.  And when I started my own analysis of the statements and evidence related to that location, Brady was…hostile about it.”

“Define hostile.”

“He talked about field agents being second-guessed by people who worked safely behind desks, then made comments about my relationship with Agent Edgerton.”  Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie saw Ian shift in his seat.

“What did he say?”  Turner asked.

“Do I have to put it in the statement?”  Charlie was reluctant.

“It would make for a stronger case if there were no inconsistencies between your statement and your testimony, if it comes to that,” Agent Collins cut in.

Charlie sighed, trying to fight the color rising in his cheeks.  “He pulled down the back of my shirt and said he wanted to see if I was pitching or catching.  He got in my face and that’s when Don walked in.”  He did not look at Ian.

“Was there anything else?”

Anything else.  How did one catalogue smirks and sneers and unpleasant laughter?  Trying to describe stares that went on too long and standing too close and looming and comments made just outside the edge of hearing seemed…well, it seemed childish and hard to quantify.  And Charlie didn’t think that gut feelings held up in court, no matter what Don said.

“That was basically it.  But then he was there on the mountain…”  Charlie found it harder than he expected to talk through the details of the attack, and shuddered when he got the part where he’d buried his notebook because he didn’t believe he was going to survive.  It was improbable that he would have, given the circumstances.  “I think…I think you should look a little more deeply in Brady’s career, particularly any use of deadly force investigations and deaths of team members he didn’t get along with.  Talk to his former partners.  When he had me cornered against the cliff, he said that he could make it look like an accident, and that he knew what he was doing.  He gave me the impression that shooting Ian wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this.”

Turner made a note.  “What happened next, Charlie?”

“He told me that shooting Ian was impulsive, an opportunity that he took rather than something he planned, and that he’d meant to kill Ian because he was aiming at his head.”  Charlie did direct a small smile at Ian then.  “He’s a lousy shot.  Anyway, that’s when I scratched his face and bit him.  I wanted to mark him if I could, and maybe get some evidence that would tie him directly to…well you know.  He pulled free and then kicked me over the edge.  I remember going in and out for a while, and I had the thought to stick my hand in my pocket to keep the rain from washing away any DNA under my fingernails.”

“Really?”  Collins’ tone was skeptical.

“I thought I was going to die,” Charlie shrugged.  “There wasn’t any other way I could see to show that he was responsible.”

“Would you mind if we took some photos, Charlie?”  Turner asked gently.  “They and your statement together would make for some pretty strong evidence.”

“Um, sure,” Charlie said apprehensively.  Over the past few days he’d studied his bruises in the bathroom mirror.  They didn’t hurt as much now but they were a riot of color, looking much worse than he felt.

Turner removed a camera with a flash from its case, along with an L-shaped ruler that had inches depicted in alternating black and white squares.  Charlie stared at it.  A number came into his head, unbidden.  _Thirty-six square inches_.  “We’ll just go one at a time,” Turner explained.  “Agent Collins will hold this up against your skin to show scale.  And then we’ll wrap this up, okay?”

Charlie nodded, suddenly extremely glad that he didn’t have any bruises on his face.  He reached behind him to undo the ties on his hospital gown, but he stopped and winced when the movement pulled at his stitches.  “Sorry, just a second—“

Strong hands steadied him, and Charlie looked up to see Ian, his face impassive.  He felt a slight tug as Ian gently loosened the ties for him, then stepped back to give the other agents some room to work.  They photographed the bruise on his shoulders first, a long one that crossed his spine at a slight angle.  The L-shaped ruler was cold when it touched his skin, and he couldn’t stop himself from flinching. 

The bruise on his arm was a bad one.  There were broken blood vessels and almost his entire bicep was a deep purple.  Charlie did his best to turn and stick out his leg so that the back of his knee could be photographed.  Then he just let the hospital gown fall to his lap.  There was the bruise on the lower right portion of his rib cage – Charlie felt fortunate that none of his ribs had actually broken.  And then there was the bruise that Charlie hated the most, the one that he hoped would fade the quickest.  Just off-center on his chest was a partial boot print.  The outside edge and the heel were the most prominent.  Turner sucked in a breath at the sight but put the camera back up to her eye.

Charlie couldn’t meet their eyes as he shifted the gown back up to cover his chest.  Ian was there again, helping him right the garment and then retying it behind him.

“If there’s anything else you need to tell us, Charlie, Don will be able to get a hold of us.”  Turner smiled.  “Thanks for your time, we’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”

The room was silent for a minute after the two agents from the other team packed up and left.

Don cleared his throat.  “Charlie…”

“No.”  Charlie’s hands were clenched tightly in his lap.  He refused to look at Don.

“No what?”  Don frowned.

“You’re about to give me the ‘you should focus more on your academic stuff and cut back on cases’ speech, or maybe even the ‘stop consulting for the FBI completely, it would be safer’ speech.  I just thought I’d save you some time and give you my answer right up front.”

“You almost died, Charlie.”  Don said, starting to get angry.

“So what?  Ian almost died just a little over a week ago.  You’ve almost died a lot of times.  What makes me so special?”

“That’s different, Charlie, Ian and I know what the job is.  You’re not trained—“

“Sometimes things just go bad.  Isn’t that what you said?  I could get hit by a bus while riding my bike.  I could die in an earthquake the next time the San Andreas slips.  I could get crushed by a goddamn meteorite, just ask Larry.  You can’t protect me from everything, Don, and it’s not fair of you to try to shut me out when I could help protect you, and Ian.”  Charlie said, stubbornly.

“Charlie, that’s not the same thing.  You don’t understand, it’s a different world—“

“That’s bullshit, Don!”  Charlie shouted, his face growing red.  “I used to buy into that, the whole ‘we’re from two different worlds’ thing, and it’s bullshit.  We live in the same world, quit pretending differently!  It’s only two different worlds if we _want_ it to be, because we’re making it that way.  Let’s not forget that _you’re_ the one calling _me_ , and you can’t do that, Don.  You can’t tell me to get out of my ivory tower and then try to shove me back in when you get scared.  With cases I get the chance to take what the academics publish in journals and talk about in conference rooms and lecture halls, and I put it to work, and it helps people, Don!  It helps them directly, it touches them in a way that all of those theoretical discussions will never do, and I don’t want to leave this world feeling like I wasn’t allowed to do anything useful.”

Don gaped at him, completely at a loss for words.

“This,” Charlie hissed, pointing to his head with both index fingers.  “This already puts me on the outside of pretty much everything.  It excludes me by default.  Don’t—please don’t you do it, too.”

Don didn’t say anything.  He just stood and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Charlie put his face in his hands and took a deep breath, refusing to cry.  He was _not_ going to cry, dammit.  Ian circled his arms around him, sitting down on the bed.  “For the record, Professor, I’m on your side.”


	26. Chapter 26

A T-shirt and sweats never felt so good.  Even though his stitches pulled a little and his ribs protested as Charlie slipped one of his own shirts over his head, he was glad to be rid of the awful hospital gown and start wearing real clothing again.  He was more than ready to go home.

Charlie opened the bathroom door and scowled at the walker that was waiting for him just outside.  He put one hand on it to steady himself as he shuffled over to the chair by the bed, gingerly lowering himself down. 

“You’re supposed to be actually using it, Charlie,” Ian said.  He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

“And you’re supposed to be wearing a sling.  I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Ian chuckled.  “Alan’s gone to get the car, he’ll meet us at the front entrance so that you don’t have to drag that thing through the parking lot.”

Charlie sighed with relief, then looked up when he heard a knock at the door. 

It wasn’t Don.                 

Charlie tried to hide his disappointment.  Don hadn’t come back to the hospital, called, or texted since Charlie’s interview with the other FBI team.  The person at the door was Dr. Lewis, her cheerful round face helping to lift Charlie’s mood back up just a little. 

“Ready to go, I see,” she observed, and moved the hated walker directly in front of Charlie without comment.  She handed him a packet of recovery instructions and follow-up schedules.

“That’s right,” Charlie smiled.  “I’m not sure how I would feel if my job involved working with people who were in a hurry to leave as soon as they could, but thank you for everything, Dr. Lewis.”

“It’s my pleasure, and I don’t take it personally.  Other than follow-ups, I hope I never have to see you again, Charlie.  But in a good way.”

Charlie laughed, and Dr. Lewis turned her attention to the sniper.  “It’s Ian, right?”

Ian nodded.

“Right.  Now, Ian, I hope you will indulge me, and repeat my next statement exactly.”

Bewildered, Ian nodded again.  “Okay…”

In a solemn tone as if she were reciting an oath, Dr. Lewis said, “My boyfriend has a cracked pelvis and I will be a perfect gentleman for eight to ten weeks.”

Charlie choked, his face instantly turning crimson while Ian threw his head back and roared with laughter.

“I’m quite serious.”  But Dr. Lewis was smiling.

Ian took a moment to get himself under control, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.  “My boyfriend has a cracked pelvis and I will be a perfect gentleman for eight to ten weeks.”

“Excellent, I’m glad to hear it.  Take care, Charlie.  I’ll see you for your follow-up.”  Dr. Lewis gave a little wave as she left the room.

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“You sure about that?”  Don frowned into the phone he was holding up to his ear with his shoulder, trying to sort through papers on his desk with two free hands.  “When?  Did you check security footage yet?  Okay, I appreciate the heads up.  Call if you turn up anything else.”

He set the desk phone back in its cradle and leaned back, stretching his arms for just a moment while he considered what to do.  He pulled up the call list on his cell phone, his thumb hovering over ‘Charlie.’  Then he sighed, scrolled down further and hit call.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up.  “Edgerton.”

“Ian, I just got a call from Simmons.  They located Brady’s SUV in one of the parking lots at Union Station, they’re checking security footage to see how long it’s been there and where he might be headed.”

There was a pause.  “You really think he’s skipped town?”

Don rubbed the back of his head.  “No.  No, I don’t.”

“Okay.  So what’s the plan?”

“I’m going to request LAPD put extra patrols in the neighborhood, and see if I can’t get an agent on the house until he’s caught.” 

“You’ve got an agent _in_ the house, you know.”  Ian’s voice had an offended edge to it.

“It couldn’t hurt to have some back-up who’s not on medical leave.”  Don hesitated.  “Charlie settling in okay?”

Ian was quiet.  “He mostly just slept in his bed yesterday.  The stairs really tire him out and he’s pissed that Alan won’t let him go out to the garage.”

Don chuckled softly.  “I bet he is.”

“Alan’s having a get together the day after tomorrow.  He’s invited the team, and Larry and Amita.”

“Yeah, I know, he’s invited me and Robin.”

“You coming?  Or are you still avoiding Charlie?  Because if that’s the case, then you’re going to find out that come-to-Jesus lectures go the other way, too.”

“Good thing I’m Jewish, then.  We’re coming,” Don sighed.  “I just wanted to talk to Bradford before talking to Charlie again.  He says that he’s happy to open up a spot in his schedule for you.  Just call to set up a time.”

Another pause.  “Yeah, okay.  Thanks.  I’ll make the call.  Keep me updated.”

“Will do.  I’ll call later.”

Coffee.  Don needed coffee.  He stood up and stretched again, intending to head to the break room, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Agent Cruz.  Don gave the DEA agent a cold look and made to pass her, but she moved to block his way.  “I’d like to explain.  Please.”

Don shrugged.  “Explain while I get some coffee.”

“I tried to get Brady off my team almost as soon as he was assigned to me.”  Instead of coffee, Cruz grabbed a bottle of water out of the break room fridge.  “He was decent enough as far as the work went, but he was always causing disruptions on the team.  I had more than one good agent transfer because of him.  But he’s got connections in the right places.  None of the complaints ever seemed to stick to him, and so he got to stay where he was.  Believe me, if I had the choice I wouldn’t have been working with him.”

Sipping his coffee, Don studied her.  “You think his connections might have tipped him off that he had to run?  We had Owens locked down tight, we know he wasn’t in contact with Brady after he talked to us.”

“Seems likely,” Cruz said, shrugging.  “I can promise you it wasn’t me, or Steve, or Jean.  They never liked him much, either.  To be honest, I was kind of hoping that a disruption in a joint task force would be enough to sink him.”

“Well, you sure as hell got one,” Don said icily.  “I’m not stupid, Cruz.  Our teams have been working together long enough for me to know that you’re a capable leader.  Which means that I also know that you were holding back at the start of this case.  You were hoping that Brady would implode?  Congratulations, he did.  And he damn near took both of my brothers with him.”

“There’s no way I could have known—“  Cruz protested, but Don didn’t want to hear it.

“You could have done more to reign him and Owens in, right from the start.  I don’t know if it would have made a difference.  I guess no one can.  But you could have done more, and you’re just going to have to live with knowing that.” 

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Charlie sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the warm spray of water on his back while he rested his head on Ian’s chest.  He had his right arm under Ian’s left, reaching up Ian’s back to get a good hold on his shoulder so that he wouldn’t fall. 

“Better than the shower seat, right?”  Ian asked, carefully soaping up Charlie’s back.

“Definitely.”  Charlie hummed in contentment.  “How’s your arm?”

“It’s not too bad.  I need to go back in for a check-up.”

“When do you start physical therapy?”

Ian nuzzled Charlie’s neck.  “I consider this to be physical therapy.”

“Cute.  Seriously, when?”

“I’ll find out at my appointment, I think.  They want to see how it’s healing first.  Why?”

“Oh, I was just curious to see if it would interfere with your perimeter checks.”  Charlie felt Ian go still against him.

“You noticed.”

“You forget that Dad has banned me from the garage, I don’t have much else to do but notice things.  Anything specific to be concerned about?”

“Simmons thinks he may have left town.”  Ian moved his hand slowly up and down Charlie’s back.  “Don and I don’t agree.”

“Okay.”

Ian was surprised.  “Okay?”

“I know that both you and Don try not to worry me.  Or Dad.  But honestly, it’s worse when you know something is going on but no one will tell you what.  Now I know.”  Charlie tightened his grip on Ian’s shoulder, experimentally putting a little weight on his left leg.  “Ow.  Nope.”  He quickly shifted back.

“Take it easy, babe,” Ian warned.  “I don’t want you hurting yourself.  Ready to for me to get your front?”

Charlie looked up and winked at him.  “Sure thing, handsome.”

“You’re going to get me in trouble with Dr. Lewis,” Ian chided.  He steadied Charlie as he put a little space between them, giving him room to wash Charlie’s chest.  His hand lingered and stopped on the bruise. 

Charlie looked away.  “You can’t wash it off, Ian.”

“I wish I could.”

“Me too.”  Charlie said, pulling himself close again.


	27. Chapter 27

Alan glanced up from reading the paper in his armchair, then did a double take.  “Charlie, what is that?”

“What?”  Charlie said, innocently.

“Where’s the walker?”

“Oh, that?  Yeah, uh, I think someone accidentally donated it.  So I’m using this.  I found it in the umbrella stand, I think one of your friends may have left it there.  It’s been here forever.”  Charlie was leaning slightly on a black adjustable cane with a molded horizontal grip.

“Dr. Lewis wanted you using the walker for at least two weeks!”

“It’s in a better place now, Dad.  Besides, this makes the stairs so much easier.”  Charlie waved.  “And I have a hand free.  Trust me, this is better.”

Alan narrowed his eyes.  Charlie stared him down.

“Fine!”  Alan set the newspaper aside and threw up his hands.  “I was blessed with the two most stubborn sons ever to walk the earth.  Goodnight, I’m done for the day.”  He got up and climbed the stairs, muttering to himself.

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The lights were on in the garage, Ian noticed, as he was finishing his walk around the house.  That meant that Alan was probably in bed, freeing Charlie to violate the ban his father had placed to prevent him from being on his feet for too long.  Hearing the familiar clack and scrape of chalk against board, Ian slipped inside, ready to give Charlie an earful for the same reason.

There were two blackboards side by side, leaning up against the desk and oriented vertically, rather than horizontally the way Charlie usually preferred.  The mathematician was sitting in the ratty old office chair, his knees brushing the blackboards as he swiveled slightly to reach different areas. 

Ian knocked on the wall, not wanting to startle him.  Charlie jerked upward in surprise anyway and winced, rubbing at his left hip.  “I’m not on my feet,” he said defensively.

“I can see that.  But I notice you still waited for Alan to turn in.”  Ian walked closer to stand behind his boyfriend.  “That looks like…social networking?”

“That’s right!”  Charlie beamed up at him.  “I wanted to map out the web of people who…well, the web of people who are responsible for both of us being alive right now.  It’s pretty complex, actually, and there are some inconsistencies between what I’ve put down and the official organizational charts that show the relationship and hierarchy of the different agencies and volunteer groups.  I might be able to suggest some changes which could increase the network’s overall effectiveness.”

Having had experience with the general resistance to and glacial pace of even small change within government organizations, Ian chose not to say anything that would dampen Charlie’s enthusiasm.  “That looks like a pretty big network.”

“It is.  And I want to say there’s a dog in there, too…”

“Cheeto.  He’s the one that found you.  His handler’s name is Sierra.”

Charlie made a few quick notes.  “We owe so much to so many people.”

Ian leaned down to kiss his cheek.  “Yes, we do.”

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Brady watched the two figures go from the garage into the house and checked his weapon, making sure that he had two spare clips.  He wasn’t ready to check out, not by a long shot.  He’d get this done and then he’d be long gone, ready to start a new life somewhere without an extradition agreement with the U.S.

He’d seen the patrol car roll past the house and knew that it would take up to forty minutes for it to make its circuit.  The FBI car had pulled away before the relief car had arrived.  Sloppy.  But it was to his advantage tonight.

He quietly exited his stolen car, leaving the keys in the ignition and the window rolled all the way down so that he could make a quick getaway after it was done.  He made efficient work of the lock on the kitchen door, closing the screen door quietly behind him but leaving the kitchen door open as his exit.  He’d gotten a general idea of the layout of the house just from the past few days of surveillance, but he still moved carefully.  He heard the water running upstairs in the bathroom and waited in the shadow of the stairs.  He wanted them both to be in bed before he made his move.

Cold metal brushed the hair on the back of his head, and he froze.

“No one surprises me twice.  Both LAPD and the FBI are on their way, and I’m curious to see who gets here first, aren’t you?”  Ian’s voice was soft.  “But we have a little time.”

Ian held his gun steady with his right hand and flicked out a telescopic baton with his left, whipping it around and catching Brady on the upper arm.  Brady cursed and dropped his weapon, trying to turn, but Ian was too quick for him.  The baton struck the back of his knee on the downswing, then came up and around to land against his shoulders.  Brady went down, flat on his face.  A hard kick to the ribs rolled him over, and then Ian stomped on Brady’s chest, bringing his foot down with as much force as he could muster.  Brady wheezed and coughed, clutching at his chest.

Ian was breathing hard, still holding his baton.  “Okay, now the FBI can have you.”

Brady struck out with his foot, catching Ian on the shin and rolling up to swing a heavy fist into Ian’s right arm.  The sniper staggered, and that was enough for Brady to retrieve his gun and get to his feet, pointing the gun directly at Ian’s head.

Brady sneered and jerked his head toward the stairs.  “Call him.”

“Like hell I will.”           

Brady stepped closer.  “You call your little fuck toy down here, or I’ll do the old man, too.  I wasn’t planning on that, he doesn’t need to die.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Ian growled.

Brady shrugged.  “Have it your way.”  He raised the gun slightly, ready to fire.

Something swung out of nowhere and crashed down on his outstretched arm.  Brady felt at least one bone crack in his wrist before he dropped his gun.  He didn’t have time to search for where the blow had come from, because Charlie had already swung his cane back up in a half-decent golf swing, right into Brady’s face.  The former DEA agent went down in a heap, a look of total surprise on his bleeding face.

Charlie dropped the cane and his legs gave out.  He hit the floor with a sharp cry of pain, trying to prop himself up with his arms.  Ian immediately put himself between Charlie and Brady, shifting his gun to his left hand and pinning Brady to the floor with his hard gaze.  “I may be out of practice as a lefty but at this range it won’t matter.”

Don burst in through the front door, David and Colby right behind him.  He took in the scene and strode forward, kicking Brady’s weapon out of reach and hauling him up to slam his already abused face into the wall.  “You _ever_ come near my family again and I will shoot you myself!”  Don tightened a pair of handcuffs around Brady’s wrists.  “Put him on the front porch, David, and sit on him until Nikki and Liz get here to take him in.  They should be here any minute.”

“Are you okay?”  Don asked worriedly, crouching down to help Charlie into a sitting position, his back against the sofa.  Charlie was breathing heavily, his hand pressed against his left hip. 

“I—I think so,” Charlie panted.  “That really, really hurt.  You’re going to have to tell Dad that I retire from golf forever.”

As if on cue, Alan pounded down the stairs in his robe.  “What the hell is going on?  Charlie?  Don?”

“It’s okay, Alan,” Ian said reassuringly.  “The guy who attacked Charlie broke into the house and we arrested him.”

Strangely, Alan was not reassured by this.  _“What?!”_

“Dad, calm down!  Everything’s under control.”

Colby picked up the discarded cane and held it up, whistling.  “Wow, Charlie.  What is this, aluminum?  Look at that!  I’m telling you, freakish upper body strength.”

The cane was bent at a slight angle, testament to the force of Charlie’s swing.

“I would like to point out,” said Charlie weakly.  “That I would not have been able to do that with a walker.”


	28. Chapter 28

It was late by the time everything died down.  LAPD had turned up and engaged in a brief jurisdictional pissing match with Don, which was solved by getting Lieutenant Gary Walker on the phone.  Ian could hear the yelling from his perch on the arm of the sofa.  Ian had insisted that Charlie give his preliminary statement first so that he could take his boyfriend upstairs and put him to bed.  Charlie had taken a pill to help with the pain he was feeling after his fall, but he was still looking pale and withdrawn when Ian was finally able to help him up the stairs.

Don insisted on staying, almost as if he wanted to make up for the time he’d spent avoiding Charlie by spending an uncomfortable night on the couch.  “I called Robin already, she’ll be fine.”

“I have to say, I’m not sure if I can sleep after this,” Alan said.

“Then don’t sleep,” said Don.  “Let’s find a game and watch for a while.  You should get some sleep, Ian, or at least go check on Charlie.”

“Yeah, I’m calling it a night,” Ian said, rubbing his eyes.  “See you both tomorrow.”

Ian’s pulse quickened as he put his hand out to open the bedroom door.  He opened it hurriedly, and Charlie’s soft sobs reached his ears more clearly.  The mathematician was asleep, but tears were running down his face, which was twisted in pain.  Ian turned on a bedside lamp and knelt down, stroking Charlie’s hair.

“Oh babe, wake up.  It’s just another nightmare.  Wake up, Charlie, it’s okay.  It’s going to be okay, come on.”

Charlie’s eyes opened, darting around the room before settling on Ian’s face.  He wrapped his arms around the sniper’s neck and pulled him down, unable to stop shaking with residual sobs.  “He killed you.  He killed you and he killed Dad, Ian, he killed you both.”

“That wasn’t real, babe.  I’m okay, your dad’s okay.  Everyone is safe.”

Watery brown eyes met his, and then Charlie pulled Ian into a desperate kiss, tightening his grip as if he were afraid that Ian would disappear.  “Need you,” he panted, then went in for another fierce kiss.  “I need you, I need to know that you’re really here, please, Ian.  Please.”

Ian gently disentangled himself and cupped Charlie’s face in his hands.  “No, babe.  I won’t hurt you.  But I’m really here, I promise.  Now come on, deep breaths.  Try to calm down.”

Charlie obeyed, sinking back against the pillow.  “You promise?”

“I love you, Charlie.  I’m not going anywhere.”

Ian could feel Charlie’s wide eyes on him as he stripped down to his boxers.  He slid under the sheets and cuddled close.  Charlie pulled Ian’s arm over himself, running his hand softly up and down his forearm.  “I love you, too,” he whispered.

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“Hey, buddy,” said Don, taking the chair next to Charlie’s.

It was a perfect evening, and almost everyone at the gathering had opted to take their plates out to the backyard to enjoy Alan’s delicious home cooking.  Ian had deliberately set the two Adirondack chairs that usually occupied the back porch next to the koi pond, adding a couple of pillows to one of them.  He had then parked Charlie there and forbidden him from getting up, although Charlie’s new cane was in easy reach.  Ian was back inside the house, having taken Charlie’s empty plate away.

“Hey, Don.”  Charlie gave a brief smile before returning his gaze to the koi, who were swimming in lazy circuits.

“It’s been a while since we talked,” Don ventured.

Charlie bit back an instinctive retort.  They hadn’t _really_ talked the previous night, so that wasn’t worth mentioning.  And while Charlie was tempted to lay the entirety of the blame at Don’s feet for the silence between them, the truth was that he had been waiting for Don to make the first overture when he could have picked up the phone himself.  “You’re right, it has.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…”  Don’s voice trailed off.  Charlie waited.

“I’m not going to apologize for wanting to protect you.  I’m your big brother, it’s in the job description.  But I talked to Bradford, and he suggested that I may have, you know, a slight issue with control.”

Charlie gasped in mock surprise.  “You?”

“Shut up!”  Don laughed, ruffling his brother’s hair.  “It’s hard for me to think of you in danger and feel like I’m not doing anything about it.  I feel responsible for you, Charlie.  I couldn’t live with myself if…”

“Do you think it’s any easier for me?  That what I would feel would somehow not be as bad if something happened to you?  Especially if I’m the reason you were there in the first place.”  Charlie closed his eyes.  “Like with the Serbian.”

“Charlie, that wasn’t your fault!  You were working off the information you had, I never blamed you—“  Don cut himself off at the look Charlie was giving him.  Charlie’s eyebrows were raised and he was nodding slightly, waiting for Don to get it.

“Oh.”  Don suddenly felt foolish.

“Don, I’m not trying to put myself in danger and believe me, I’ll do my best to try to avoid it completely.  But it won’t always be possible – that’s life.  I know that you would never be careless with my life and I’m certainly not careless about yours.  So are you okay to leave it at that?”

“Yeah.”  Don nodded.  “I’ll try to be.”

“You’re in my seat, Eppes.”  Ian suddenly loomed over Don, holding two plates. 

Don rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  I need to rescue Robin from Larry’s discussion of the Higgs anyway.  Hopefully before he tries to call our child a wormhole again.”  He hauled himself to his feet and squeezed Charlie’s shoulder before heading back into the house.

Ian sat and handed one of the plates to Charlie.  It held a large slice of lemon meringue pie.  Charlie’s eyes grew wide.  “That’s a quarter of a pie!  A quarter of a nine-inch pie.  That’s roughly forty-seven cubic inches of pie, give or take variations in the topography of the meringue.”

Ian laughed.  “And it’s all for you.  Dig in, Professor.”

Charlie hummed happily as he lifted a huge forkful of pie to his mouth.  “This is from the bakery on Los Altos?”  He asked, his words muffled by the meringue.

“Your dad picked it up this morning while you were still asleep.  He said that if you knew that there were pies in the house there wouldn’t have been any left for the dinner.”

“He’s probably right,” Charlie admitted, continuing to eat until there wasn’t even a speck of lemon curd or pie crust on the plate.  Ian enjoyed his smaller piece at a more leisurely pace, aware of Charlie’s eyes on him while he took his time.

“Something on your mind, Professor?”  Ian asked, taking Charlie’s hand and intertwining their fingers.

Charlie shifted in his chair, trying to think of the right way to say what was on his mind.  “I was thinking about that day in the hospital.  Of you, I mean.  I was thinking about how lucky it was that they didn’t need to do anything that would have required your consent, or your next of kin to make medical decisions on your behalf.  And how lucky I was that Don was there, because otherwise they couldn’t have shared any information with me.  If that happened while you were on a job somewhere else, someplace where the people you were working with didn’t know me…  I wouldn’t be able to be there for you the way you’d need me to.”

Ian was quiet.  Charlie kept going, even though he knew he was babbling.  “So I was thinking – I have a lawyer, you know, from that thing with my security clearance.  And it would be possible to draw up some legal documents that would let us do that for each other, make it official, if you wanted, and then I was thinking that there’s already a system in place that would let us do all of that without a lawyer.  Nothing would have to change,” Charlie said, desperately searching Ian’s face for any hint of a reaction to what he was saying.  “I’m not asking you to – to quit your job or move anywhere or really do anything –“

“Charlie.”  Ian’s voice had a strange quality to it.  “I’m used to not being able to keep up with your train of thought, so I might be getting this wrong, but…did you just ask me to marry you?”

“Oh god.”  Charlie covered his face with his hands.  “Yes, I think I did.”  He couldn’t bear to look at Ian, he’d made such a hash of this, hadn’t explained himself properly.  His hands were gently tugged away.  Ian was kneeling in front of him now, looking him right in the eyes.

“Then yes, I think I will,” Ian said softly, and leaned in and kissed Charlie thoroughly, his hands covering Charlie’s on the armrests of the chair.

“Oh,” Charlie gasped, when Ian broke off the kiss.  “You have to admit, it’s a much more elegant solution than the lawyer thing.  Probably less expensive, too.”

Ian laughed, resting his forehead against Charlie’s.  “I love you, Professor.”

“Love you, Ian.”  Charlie mumbled, feeling overwhelmed.

“Neither of us is in the best condition to celebrate this properly,” Ian purred, sending shivers down Charlie’s spine.  “But believe me, in eight to ten weeks you’re really going to be in for it.”

A peal of laughter drifted out from the kitchen, serving as a reminder that there were more people in the world than just the two of them.  Apparently something had happened that both Colby and Amita found hilarious. 

“Do you want to go in and tell them?”  Ian asked.

“No.”  Charlie shook his head, reluctant to be moved from what he thought was perhaps the most perfect moment of his life.  “Let’s just stay out here for a while.  You can get up, you know.”  He stroked Ian’s cheek.

“Nah, Professor,” Ian said with a grin, settling down and laying his head carefully on Charlie’s lap.  He draped his arms around Charlie, closing his eyes when he felt Charlie start to run his fingers through his hair.  “This is a marriage proposal, it’s only fitting that one of us is on his knees.”


End file.
